{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_52719/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_52719","id":"gutenberg_52719","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52719","summary":null,"tags":["Category: French Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales"],"text":"Fairy Tales.\n\n\n\n\n                   [Illustration: PERRAULT]\n\n\n\n\n                        FOUR AND TWENTY\n\n                          FAIRY TALES.\n\n                     SELECTED FROM THOSE OF\n\n              PERRAULT, AND OTHER POPULAR WRITERS.\n\n\n                           TRANSLATED\n\n                        BY J. R. PLANCH\u00c9.\n\n\n       WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY GODWIN, CORBOULD, AND HARVEY.\n\n\n                             LONDON:\n              G. ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET.\n                   NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET.\n                              1858.\n\n                [_This Translation is Copyright._]\n\n\n\n\n                             LONDON:\n          SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET,\n                          COVENT GARDEN.\n\n\n\n\n                                TO\n\n                            THE AUTHOR\n\n                                OF\n\n                   \"A TRAP TO CATCH A SUNBEAM,\"\n\n                            THIS VOLUME\n\n                           Is Inscribed,\n\n                    BY HER AFFECTIONATE FATHER,\n\n                           J. R. PLANCH\u00c9.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                        PAGE\n\n  PREFACE                                                 ix\n\n  BLUE BEARD                                               3\n\n  THE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD                          8\n\n  MASTER CAT; OR, PUSS IN BOOTS                           17\n\n  CINDERELLA; OR, THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER                22\n\n  RIQUET WITH THE TUFT                                    28\n\n  LITTLE THUMBLING                                        35\n\n  PERFECT LOVE                                            47\n\n  ANGUILLETTE                                             75\n\n  YOUNG AND HANDSOME                                     108\n\n  THE PALACE OF REVENGE                                  131\n\n  THE PRINCE OF LEAVES                                   145\n\n  THE FORTUNATE PUNISHMENT                               163\n\n  FAIRER THAN A FAIRY                                    183\n\n  THE GOOD WOMAN                                         203\n\n  THE STORY OF BEAUTY AND THE BEAST                      225\n\n  PRINCESS MINUTE AND KING FLORIDOR                      329\n\n  THE IMPOSSIBLE ENCHANTMENT                             336\n\n  BLEUETTE AND COQUELICOT                                358\n\n  PRINCESS CAMION                                        375\n\n  PRINCESS LIONETTE AND PRINCE COQUERICO                 416\n\n  PRINCE D\u00c9SIR                                           477\n\n  PRINCE CH\u00c9RI                                           483\n\n  THE WIDOW AND HER TWO DAUGHTERS                        494\n\n  PRINCE FATAL AND PRINCE FORTUN\u00c9                        498\n\n  APPENDIX                                               509\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe success attending the publication of a new translation of the\nFairy Tales of the Countess d'Aulnoy has justified the publishers in\nbelieving that an equally faithful version of some of the most popular\nstories of her contemporaries and immediate successors, similarly\nannotated, might meet with as favourable a reception. I have therefore\nselected twenty-four of the best Fairy Tales, according to my judgment,\nremaining in the _Cabinet des F\u00e9es_, commencing with those of Charles\nPerrault, the earliest, and terminating with some of Madame Leprince\nde Beaumont, the latest French writer of European celebrity in that\nparticular class of literature. Independently of the fact that, with\nthe exception of those of Madame de Beaumont, few if any in the present\nvolume have ever been placed in their integrity before the English\nreader, I trust that the chronological order I have observed in their\narrangement will give them a novel interest in the eyes of those\n\"children of a larger growth,\" who are not ashamed to confess, with La\nFontaine--\n\n    Si \"_Peau d'ane_\" m'\u00e9toit cont\u00e9\n    J'y prendrais un plaisir extr\u00eame.\n\nOr with the great Reformer, Martin Luther--\n\n \"I would not for any quantity of gold part with the wonderful tales\n which I have retained from my earliest childhood or have met with in\n my progress through life.\"\n\nThe reader will by this arrangement observe, in a clearer way than\nprobably he has yet had an opportunity of doing, the rise, progress,\nand decline of the genuine Fairy Tale--so thoroughly French in its\norigin, so specially connected with the age of that \"Grand Monarque\"\nwhose reign presents us, in the graphic pages of St. Simon and\nDangeau, with innumerable pictures of manners and customs, dresses and\nentertainments, the singularity, magnificence, profusion, and extent\nof which scarcely require the fancy of a d'Aulnoy to render fabulous.\nIn my introduction to the tales of that \"lively and ingenious lady,\"\nI have already shown the progress of the popularity of this class\nof composition; but in the present volume it will be seen how, in\nthe course of little more than half a century, the Fairy Tale, from\na fresh, sparkling, simple yet arch version of a legend as old as\nthe monuments of that Celtic race by whom they were introduced into\nGaul, became first elaborated into a novel, comprising an ingenious\nplot, with an amusing exaggeration of the manners of the period;\nnext, inflated into a preposterous and purposeless caricature of its\nown peculiarities; and finally, denuded of its sportive fancy, its\nlatent humour, and its gorgeous extravagance, subsided into the dull\ncommon-place moral story, which, taking less hold of the youthful\nimagination, was, however laudable in its intention, a very ineffective\nsubstitute for the merry monitors it vainly endeavoured to supersede.\nToo much like a lesson for the child, it was too childish for the man.\nThe Fairies were dismissed in consequence of the incapacity of the\nwriters to employ them; but they were not to be annihilated. They still\nlive in their own land, to laugh at those mortals who will not laugh\nwith them and learn while they laugh. Modern art may vainly invoke\nthem to perform fresh marvels, but enough power still exists in their\nold spells to enchant youth, amuse manhood, and resuscitate age; and,\ndespite the hypercritic and the purist, they will continue to exercise\ntheir magic influence over the human mind so long as it is capable of\nappreciating wit, fancy, and good feeling. As Mademoiselle Lheritier\nwrote two hundred years ago--\n\n    Ils ne sont pas ais\u00e9es \u00e0 croire,\n    Mais tant que dans le monde on verra des enfans,\n    Des m\u00e8res et des m\u00e8res-grands\n    On en gardera la memoire.\n\n\n\n\n                         CHARLES PERRAULT.\n\n\n\n\nBLUE BEARD.\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a man who had fine town and country houses,\ngold and silver plate, embroidered furniture, and coaches gilt all\nover; but unfortunately, this man had a blue beard, which made him\nlook so ugly and terrible, that there was not a woman or girl who did\nnot run away from him. One of his neighbours, a lady of quality, had\ntwo daughters, who were perfectly beautiful. He proposed to marry one\nof them, leaving her to choose which of the two she would give him.\nNeither of them would have him; and they sent him from one to the\nother, not being able to make up their minds to marry a man who had a\nblue beard. What increased their distaste to him was, that he had had\nseveral wives already, and nobody knew what had become of them.\n\nBlue Beard, in order to cultivate their acquaintance, took them, with\ntheir mother, three or four of their most intimate friends, and some\nyoung persons who resided in the neighbourhood, to one of his country\nseats, where they passed an entire week. Nothing was thought of but\nexcursions, hunting and fishing, parties, balls, entertainments,\ncollations; nobody went to bed; the whole night was spent in merry\ngames and gambols. In short, all went off so well, that the youngest\ndaughter began to find out that the beard of the master of the house\nwas not as blue as it used to be, and that he was a very worthy man.\nImmediately upon their return to town the marriage took place. At the\nend of a month Blue Beard told his wife that he was obliged to take a\njourney, which would occupy six weeks at least, on a matter of great\nconsequence; that he entreated she would amuse herself as much as she\ncould during his absence; that she would invite her best friends, take\nthem into the country with her if she pleased, and keep an excellent\ntable everywhere.\n\n\"Here,\" said he to her, \"are the keys of my two great store-rooms;\nthese are those of the chests in which the gold and silver plate is\nkept, that is only used on particular occasions; these are the keys of\nthe strong boxes in which I keep my money; these open the caskets that\ncontain my jewels; and this is the pass-key of all the apartments. As\nfor this little key, it is that of the closet at the end of the long\ngallery, on the ground floor. Open everything, and go everywhere except\ninto that little closet, which I forbid you to enter, and I forbid you\nso strictly, that if you should venture to open the door, there is\nnothing that you may not have to dread from my anger!\" She promised to\nobserve implicitly all his directions, and after he had embraced her,\nhe got into his coach and set out on his journey.\n\nThe neighbours and friends of the young bride did not wait for her\ninvitation, so eager were they to see all the treasures contained in\nthe mansion, not having ventured to enter it while the husband was at\nhome, so terrified were they at his blue beard. Behold them immediately\nrunning through all the rooms, closets, and wardrobes, each apartment\nexceeding the other in beauty and richness. They ascended afterwards to\nthe store-rooms, where they could not sufficiently admire the number\nand elegance of the tapestries, the beds, the sofas, the cabinets,\nthe stands,[1] the tables, and the mirrors in which they could see\nthemselves from head to foot, and that had frames some of glass,[2]\nsome of silver, and some of gilt metal, more beautiful and magnificent\nthan had ever been seen. They never ceased enlarging upon and envying\nthe good fortune of their friend, who in the meanwhile was not in the\nleast entertained by the sight of all these treasures, in consequence\nof her impatience to open the closet on the ground floor.\n\nHer curiosity increased to such a degree that, without reflecting how\nrude it was to leave her company, she ran down a back staircase in such\nhaste that twice or thrice she narrowly escaped breaking her neck.\nArrived at the door of the closet, she paused for a moment, bethinking\nherself of her husband's prohibition, and that some misfortune might\nbefall her for her disobedience; but the temptation was so strong\nthat she could not conquer it. She therefore took the little key and\nopened, tremblingly, the door of the closet. At first she could discern\nnothing, the windows being closed; after a short time she began to\nperceive that the floor was all covered with clotted blood, in which\nwere reflected the dead bodies of several females suspended against\nthe walls. These were all the wives of Blue Beard, who had cut their\nthroats one after the other. She was ready to die with fright, and the\nkey of the closet, which she had withdrawn from the lock, fell from\nher hand. After recovering her senses a little, she picked up the key,\nlocked the door again, and went up to her chamber to compose herself;\nbut she could not succeed, so greatly was she agitated. Having observed\nthat the key of the closet was stained with blood, she wiped it two\nor three times, but the blood would not come off. In vain she washed\nit, and even scrubbed it with sand and free-stone, the blood was still\nthere, for the key was enchanted, and there were no means of cleaning\nit completely: when the blood was washed off one side, it came back on\nthe other.\n\nBlue Beard returned that very evening, and said that he had received\nletters on the road informing him that the business on which he was\ngoing had been settled to his advantage. His wife did all she could\nto persuade him that she was delighted at his speedy return. The next\nmorning he asked her for his keys again; she gave them to him; but her\nhand trembled so, that he had not much difficulty in guessing what had\noccurred. \"How comes it,\" said he, \"that the key of the closet is not\nwith the others?\" \"I must have left it,\" she replied, \"upstairs on my\ntable.\" \"Fail not,\" said Blue Beard, \"to give it me presently.\" After\nseveral excuses, she was compelled to produce the key. Blue Beard\nhaving examined it, said to his wife, \"Why is there some blood on\nthis key?\" \"I don't know,\" answered the poor wife, paler than death.\n\"You don't know?\" rejoined Blue Beard. \"I know well enough. You must\nneeds enter the closet. Well, madam, you shall enter it, and go take\nyour place amongst the ladies you saw there.\" She flung herself at her\nhusband's feet, weeping and begging his pardon, with all the signs of\ntrue repentance for having disobeyed him. Her beauty and affliction\nmight have melted a rock, but Blue Beard had a heart harder than a\nrock. \"You must die, madam,\" said he, \"and immediately.\" \"If I must\ndie,\" she replied, looking at him with streaming eyes, \"give me a\nlittle time to say my prayers.\" \"I give you half a quarter of an hour,\"\nanswered Blue Beard, \"but not a minute more.\" As soon as he had left\nher, she called her sister, and said to her, \"Sister Anne\" (for so she\nwas named), \"go up, I pray thee, to the top of the tower, and see if my\nbrothers are not coming. They have promised me that they would come to\nsee me to-day; and if you see them, sign to them to make haste.\" Sister\nAnne mounted to the top of the tower, and the poor distressed creature\ncalled to her every now and then, \"Anne! sister Anne! dost thou not see\nanything coming?\" And sister Anne answered her, \"I see nothing but the\nsun making dust, and the grass growing green.\"\n\nIn the meanwhile Blue Beard, with a great cutlass in his hand, called\nout with all his might to his wife, \"Come down quickly, or I will come\nup there.\" \"One minute more, if you please,\" replied his wife; and\nimmediately repeated in a low voice, \"Anne! sister Anne! dost thou not\nsee anything coming?\" And sister Anne replied, \"I see nothing but the\nsun making dust, and the grass growing green.\" \"Come down quickly,\"\nroared Blue Beard, \"or I will come up there.\" \"I come,\" answered\nhis wife, and then exclaimed, \"Anne! sister Anne! dost thou not see\nanything coming?\" \"I see,\" said sister Anne, \"a great cloud of dust\nmoving this way.\" \"Is it my brothers?\" \"Alas! no, sister, I see a flock\nof sheep.\" \"Wilt thou not come down?\" shouted Blue Beard. \"One minute\nmore,\" replied his wife, and then she cried, \"Anne! sister Anne! dost\nthou not see anything coming?\" \"I see,\" she replied, \"two horsemen\ncoming this way; but they are still at a great distance.\" \"Heaven be\npraised!\" she exclaimed, a moment afterwards. \"They are my brothers! I\nam making all the signs I can to hasten them.\" Blue Beard began to roar\nso loudly that the whole house shook again. The poor wife descended,\nand went and threw herself, with streaming eyes and dishevelled\ntresses, at his feet.\n\n\"It is of no use,\" said Blue Beard. \"You must die!\" Then seizing her by\nthe hair with one hand, and raising his cutlass with the other, he was\nabout to cut off her head. The poor wife turned towards him, and fixing\nupon him her dying eyes, implored him to allow her one short moment\nto collect herself. \"No, no,\" said he; \"recommend thyself heartily to\nHeaven.\" And lifting his arm---- At this moment there was so loud a\nknocking at the gate, that Blue Beard stopped short. It was opened,\nand two horsemen were immediately seen to enter, who, drawing their\nswords, ran straight at Blue Beard. He recognised them as the brothers\nof his wife--one a dragoon, the other a musqueteer, and, consequently,\nfled immediately, in hope to escape; but they pursued him so closely,\nthat they overtook him before he could reach the step of his door,\nand, passing their swords through his body, left him dead on the spot.\nThe poor wife was almost as dead as her husband, and had not strength\nto rise and embrace her brothers. It was found that Blue Beard had no\nheirs, and so his widow remained possessed of all his property. She\nemployed part of it in marrying her sister Anne to a young gentleman\nwho had long loved her; another part, in buying captains' commissions\nfor her two brothers, and with the rest she married herself to a very\nworthy man, who made her forget the miserable time she had passed with\nBlue Beard.\n\n    Provided one has common sense,\n    And of the world but knows the ways,\n    This story bears the evidence\n    Of being one of bygone days.\n    No husband now is so terrific,\n    Impossibilities, expecting:\n    Though jealous, he is still pacific,\n    Indifference to his wife affecting.\n    And of his beard, whate'er the hue,\n    His spouse need fear no such disaster.\n    Indeed, 'twould often puzzle you\n    To say which of the twain is master.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Gueridons, _i.e._, stands to place lights or china upon.\nThe word is now used to signify any small round table with one foot;\nbut the old-fashioned stand, which was higher than a table, and its top\nnot bigger than a dessert plate, is occasionally to be met with.\n\n[2] Looking-glasses with frames of the same material were much\nin vogue at that period. Of silver-framed mirrors some magnificent\nspecimens remain to us at Knowle Park, Kent.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a King and a Queen, who were so vexed at\nnot having any children--so vexed, that one cannot express it. They\nvisited all the baths in the world. Vows, pilgrimages, everything was\ntried, and nothing succeeded. At length, however, the Queen was brought\nto bed of a daughter. There was a splendid christening. For godmothers\nthey gave the young Princess all the Fairies they could find in the\ncountry (they found seven), in order that each making her a gift,\naccording to the custom of Fairies in those days, the Princess would,\nby these means, become possessed of all imaginable perfections. After\nthe baptismal ceremonies all the company returned to the King's palace,\nwhere a great banquet was set out for the Fairies. Covers were laid\nfor each, consisting of a magnificent plate, with a massive gold case,\ncontaining a spoon, a fork, and a knife of fine gold, enriched with\ndiamonds and rubies. But as they were all taking their places at the\ntable, there was seen to enter an old Fairy, who had not been invited,\nbecause for upwards of fifty years she had never quitted the tower she\nresided in, and it was supposed she was either dead or enchanted.\n\nThe King ordered a cover to be laid for her; but there was no\npossibility of giving her a massive gold case such as the others had,\nbecause there had been only seven made expressly for the seven Fairies.\nThe old lady thought she was treated with contempt, and muttered some\nthreats between her teeth. One of the young Fairies, who chanced to be\nnear her, overheard her, and imagining she might cast some misfortune\non the little Princess, went, as soon as they rose from table, and hid\nherself behind the hangings, in order to have the last word, and be\nable to repair, as fast as possible, any mischief the old woman might\ndo. In the meanwhile, the Fairies began to endow the Princess. The\nyoungest, as her gift, decreed that she should be the most beautiful\nperson in the world; the next Fairy, that she should have the mind of\nan angel; the third, that she should evince the most admirable grace\nin all she did; the fourth, that she should dance to perfection; the\nfifth, that she should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she\nshould play on every instrument in the most exquisite manner possible.\nThe turn of the old Fairy having arrived, she declared, while her head\nshook more with malice than with age, that the Princess should pierce\nher hand with a spindle, and die of the wound. This terrible fate\nmade all the company tremble, and there was not one of them who could\nrefrain from tears. At this moment the young Fairy issued from behind\nthe tapestry, and uttered aloud these words: \"Comfort yourselves, King\nand Queen--your daughter shall not die of it. It is true that I have\nnot sufficient power to undo entirely what my elder has done. The\nPrincess will pierce her hand with a spindle; but, instead of dying,\nshe will only fall into a deep slumber, which will last one hundred\nyears, at the end of which a King's son will come to wake her.\"\n\nThe King, in hope of avoiding the misfortune predicted by the old\nFairy, immediately caused an edict to be published, by which he\nforbade any one to spin with a spindle, or to have spindles in their\npossession, under pain of death.\n\nAt the end of fifteen or sixteen years, the King and Queen, being\nabsent at one of their country residences, it happened that the\nPrincess, while running one day about the castle, and from one chamber\nup to another, arrived at the top of a tower, and entered a little\ngarret, where an honest old woman was sitting by herself, spinning\nwith her distaff and spindle. This good woman had never heard of the\nKing's prohibition with respect to spinning with a spindle. \"What are\nyou doing there?\" asked the Princess. \"I am spinning, my fair child,\"\nanswered the old woman, who did not know her. \"Oh, how pretty it is!\"\nrejoined the Princess. \"How do you do it? Give it to me, that I may see\nif I can do it as well.\" She had no sooner taken hold of the spindle,\nthan, being very hasty, a little thoughtless, and, moreover, the\nsentence of the Fairies so ordaining it, she pierced her hand with the\npoint of it, and fainted away. The good old woman, greatly embarrassed,\ncalled for help. People came from all quarters; they threw water in\nthe Princess's face; they unlaced her stays; they slapped her hands;\nthey rubbed her temples with Queen of Hungary's water,[3] but nothing\ncould bring her to. The King, who had run upstairs at the noise, then\nremembered the prediction of the Fairies, and, wisely concluding that\nthis must have occurred as the Fairies said it would, had the Princess\nconveyed into the finest apartment in the palace, and placed on a bed\nof gold and silver embroidery. One would have said she was an angel, so\nlovely did she appear--for her swoon had not deprived her of her rich\ncomplexion: her cheeks preserved their crimson, and her lips were like\ncoral. Her eyes were closed, but they could hear her breathe softly,\nwhich showed that she was not dead. The King commanded them to let her\nrepose in peace until the hour arrived for her waking. The good Fairy\nwho had saved her life, by decreeing that she should sleep for an\nhundred years, was in the Kingdom of Mataquin, twelve thousand leagues\noff, when the Princess met with her accident; but she was informed of\nit instantly by a little dwarf, who had a pair of seven-league boots\n(that is, boots which enabled the wearer to take seven leagues at a\nstride[4]). The Fairy set out immediately and an hour afterwards they\nsaw her arrive in a fiery chariot, drawn by dragons. The King advanced,\nto hand her out of the chariot. She approved of all he had done; but,\nas she had great foresight, she considered that, when the Princess\nawoke, she would feel considerably embarrassed at finding herself all\nalone in that old castle; so this is what the Fairy did. She touched\nwith her wand everybody that was in the castle (except the King and\nQueen): governesses, maids of honour, women of the bed-chamber,\ngentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, scullions, boys, guards, porters,\npages, footmen; she touched also the horses that were in the stables,\nwith their grooms, the great mastiffs in the court-yard, and little\nPouste, the tiny dog of the Princess, that was on the bed, beside her.\nAs soon as she had touched them, they all fell asleep, not to wake\nagain until the time arrived for their mistress to do so, in order\nthat they might be all ready to attend upon her when she should want\nthem. Even the spits that had been put down to the fire, laden with\npartridges and pheasants, went to sleep, and the fire itself also.\n\nAll this was done in a moment; the fairies never lost much time over\ntheir work. After which, the King and Queen, having kissed their\ndear daughter without waking her, quitted the Castle, and issued a\nproclamation forbidding any person, whosoever, to approach it. These\norders were unnecessary, for in a quarter of an hour there grew up\naround the Park so great a quantity of trees, large and small, of\nbrambles and thorns, interlacing each other, that neither man nor beast\ncould get through them, so that nothing more was to be seen than the\ntops of the Castle turrets, and they only at a considerable distance.\nNobody doubted but that was also some of the Fairy's handiwork, in\norder that the Princess might have nothing to fear from the curiosity\nof strangers during her slumber.\n\nAt the expiration of an hundred years, the son of the King at that\ntime upon the throne, and who was of a different family to that of the\nsleeping Princess, having been hunting in that neighbourhood, inquired\nwhat towers they were that he saw above the trees of a very thick wood.\nEach person answered him according to the story he had heard. Some\nsaid that it was an old castle, haunted by ghosts. Others, that all\nthe witches of those parts held their Sabbath in it. The more general\nopinion was, that it was the abode of an ogre; and that he carried\nthither all the children he could catch, in order to eat them at his\nleisure, and without being pursued, having alone the power of making\nhis way through the wood. The Prince did not know what to believe about\nit, when an old peasant spoke in his turn, and said to him, \"Prince,\nit is more than fifty years ago since I heard my father say that there\nwas in that Castle the most beautiful Princess that was ever seen.\nThat she was to sleep for a hundred years, and would be awakened by\na King's son for whom she was reserved.\" The young Prince, at these\nwords, felt himself all on fire. He believed, without hesitation, that\nhe was destined to accomplish this famous adventure; and, impelled by\nlove and glory, resolved to see what would come of it, upon the spot.\nScarcely had he approached the wood, when all those great trees, all\nthose brambles and thorns made way for him to pass of their own accord.\nHe walked towards the Castle, which he saw at the end of a long avenue\nhe had entered, and what rather surprised him was, that he found none\nof his people had been able to follow him, the trees having closed\nup again as soon as he had passed. He continued, nevertheless, to\nadvance; a young and amorous prince is always courageous. He entered\na large fore-court, where everything he saw was calculated to freeze\nhis blood with terror. A frightful silence reigned around. Death\nseemed everywhere present. Nothing was to be seen but the bodies of\nmen and animals stretched out apparently lifeless. He soon discovered,\nhowever, by the shining noses and red faces of the porters, that they\nwere only asleep; and their goblets, in which still remained a few\ndrops of wine, sufficiently proved that they had dosed off whilst\ndrinking. He passed through a large court-yard paved with marble; he\nascended the staircase. He entered the guard-room, where the guards\nstood drawn up in line, their carbines shouldered, and snoring their\nloudest. He traversed several apartments, with ladies and gentlemen\nall asleep; some standing, others seated. He entered a chamber covered\nwith gold, and saw on a bed, the curtains of which were open on each\nside, the most lovely sight he had ever looked upon--a Princess, who\nseemed to be about fifteen or sixteen, the lustre of whose charms gave\nher an appearance that was luminous and supernatural. He approached,\ntrembling and admiring, and knelt down beside her. At that moment, the\nenchantment being ended, the Princess awoke, and gazing upon the Prince\nwith more tenderness than a first sight of him seemed to authorize, \"Is\nit you, Prince?\" said she; \"you have been long awaited.\" The Prince,\ndelighted at these words, and still more by the tone in which they were\nuttered, knew not how to express to her his joy and gratitude.\n\n  [Illustration: The Sleeping Beauty.--P. 12.]\n\nHe assured her he loved her better than himself. His language was not\nvery coherent, but it pleased the more. There was little eloquence,\nbut a great deal of love. He was much more embarrassed than she was,\nand one ought not to be astonished at that. The Princess had had time\nenough to consider what she should say to him, for there is reason to\nbelieve (though history makes no mention of it) that, during her long\nnap, the good Fairy had procured her the pleasure of very agreeable\ndreams. In short, they talked for four hours without having said half\nwhat they had to say to each other.\n\nIn the meanwhile, all the Palace had been roused at the same time\nas the Princess. Everybody remembered their duty, and, as they were\nnot all in love, they were dying with hunger. The lady-in-waiting,\nas hungry as any of them, became impatient, and announced loudly to\nthe Princess that the meat was on the table. The Prince assisted the\nPrincess to rise; she was full dressed, and most magnificently, but\nhe took good care not to hint to her that she was attired like his\ngrandmother, and wore a stand-up collar.[5] She looked, however, not\na morsel the less lovely in it. They passed into a hall of mirrors,\nin which they supped, attended by the officers of the Princess.\nThe violins and hautbois played old but excellent pieces of music,\nnotwithstanding it was a hundred years since they had been performed by\nanybody; and after supper, to lose no time, the grand Almoner married\nthe royal lovers in the chapel of the Castle.\n\nEarly next morning the Prince returned to the city, where his father\nwas in great anxiety about him. The Prince told him that he had lost\nhimself in the forest whilst hunting, and that he had slept in a\nwoodcutter's hut, who had given him some black bread and cheese for\nhis supper. The King, his father, who was a simple man, believed him,\nbut his mother was not so easily satisfied; and observing that he went\nhunting nearly every day, and had always some story ready as an excuse,\nwhen he had slept two or three nights away from home, she no longer\ndoubted but that he had some mistress, for he lived with the Princess\nfor upwards of two years, and had two children by her; the first, which\nwas a girl, was named Aurora, and the second, a son, was called Day,\nbecause he was still more beautiful than his sister.\n\nThe Queen often said to her son, in order to draw from him some\navowal, that he ought to form some attachment; but he never ventured\nto trust her with his secret. He feared her, although he loved her,\nfor she was of the race of Ogres, and the King had married her only\non account of her great wealth. It was even whispered about the Court\nthat she had the inclinations of an Ogress, and that when she saw\nlittle children passing, she had the greatest difficulty in restraining\nherself from pouncing upon them. The Prince, therefore, would never say\none word about his adventure. On the death of the King, however, which\nhappened two years afterwards, the Prince being his own master, he\nmade a public declaration of his marriage, and went in great state to\nbring the Queen, his wife, to the palace. She made a magnificent entry\ninto the capital with her two children, one on each side of her. Some\ntime afterwards, the King went to war with his neighbour, the Emperor\nCantalabute. He left the regency of the kingdom to the Queen, his\nmother, earnestly recommending to her care his wife and his children.\nHe was likely to be all the summer in the field, and as soon as he was\ngone, the Queen-mother sent her daughter-in-law and the children to\na country house in the wood, that she might more easily gratify her\nhorrible longing. She followed them thither a few days after, and said\none evening to her Ma\u00eetre d'H\u00f4tel, \"I will eat little Aurora for dinner\nto-morrow.\" \"Ah, Madam!\" exclaimed the Ma\u00eetre d'H\u00f4tel. \"I will,\" said\nthe Queen (and she said it in the tone of an Ogress longing to eat\nfresh meat), \"and I will have her served up with _sauce Robert_.\"[6]\nThe poor man seeing plainly an Ogress was not to be trifled with, took\nhis great knife and went up to little Aurora's room. She was then about\nfour years old, and came jumping and laughing to throw her arms about\nhis neck, and ask him for sweetmeats. He burst into tears, the knife\nfell from his hands, and he went down again into the kitchen court and\nkilled a little lamb, and served it up with so delicious a sauce, that\nhis mistress assured him she had never eaten anything so excellent. In\nthe meanwhile, he had carried off little Aurora, and given her to his\nwife, to conceal her in the lodging which she occupied at the further\nend of the kitchen court.\n\nA week afterwards, the wicked Queen said to her Ma\u00eetre d'H\u00f4tel, \"I\nwill eat little Day for supper.\" He made no reply, being determined to\ndeceive her as before. He went in search of little Day, and found him\nwith a tiny foil in his hand, fencing with a great monkey, though he\nwas only three years old. He carried him to his wife, who hid him where\nshe had hidden his sister, and then cooked a very tender little kid in\nthe place of little Day, and which the Ogress thought wonderfully good.\nAll went well enough so far, but one evening this wicked Queen said to\nthe Ma\u00eetre d'H\u00f4tel, \"I would eat the Queen with the same sauce that\nI had with her children.\" Then, indeed, did the poor Ma\u00eetre d'H\u00f4tel\ndespair of being again able to deceive her. The young Queen was turned\nof twenty, without counting the hundred years she had slept; her skin\nwas a little tough, though it was white and beautiful, and where was he\nto find in the menagerie an animal that would pass for her.\n\nHe resolved that, to save his own life, he would cut the Queen's\nthroat, and went up to her apartment with the determination to execute\nhis purpose at once. He worked himself up into a passion, and entered\nthe young Queen's chamber poniard in hand. He would not, however, take\nher by surprise, but repeated, very respectfully, the order he had\nreceived from the Queen-mother. \"Do it! do it!\" said she, stretching\nout her neck to him. \"Obey the order that has been given to you. I\nshall again behold my children, my poor children, that I loved so\ndearly.\" She had imagined them to be dead ever since they had been\ncarried off without explanation. \"No, no, Madam!\" replied the poor\nMa\u00eetre d'H\u00f4tel, touched to the quick, \"you shall not die, and you shall\nsee your children again, but it shall be in my own house, where I have\nhidden them; and I will again deceive the Queen-mother by serving up\nto her a young hind in your stead.\" He led her forthwith to his own\napartments, where leaving her to embrace her children and weep with\nthem, he went and cooked a hind, of which the Queen ate at her supper,\nwith as much appetite as if it had been the young Queen. She exulted\nin her cruelty, and intended to tell the King, on his return, that some\nferocious wolves had devoured the Queen his wife, and her two children.\n\nOne evening that she was prowling, as usual, round the courts and\npoultry yards of the Castle, to inhale the smell of raw flesh, she\noverheard little Day crying in a lower room, because the Queen, his\nmother, was about to whip him for having been naughty, and she also\nheard little Aurora begging forgiveness for her brother. The Ogress\nrecognised the voices of the Queen and her children, and, furious at\nhaving been cheated, she gave orders, in a tone that made everybody\ntremble, that the next morning early there should be brought into the\nmiddle of the court a large copper, which she had filled with toads,\nvipers, adders, and serpents, in order to fling into it the Queen, her\nchildren, the Ma\u00eetre d'H\u00f4tel, his wife, and his maid servant. She had\ncommanded that they should be brought thither with hands tied behind\nthem. There they stood, and the executioners were preparing to fling\nthem into the copper, when the King, who was not expected so early,\nentered the court-yard on horseback. He had ridden post, and in great\nastonishment inquired what was the meaning of that horrible spectacle?\nNobody dared to tell him, when the Ogress, enraged at the sight of the\nKing's return, flung herself head foremost into the copper, and was\ndevoured in an instant by the horrid reptiles she had caused it to\nbe filled with. The King could not help being sorry for it; she was\nhis mother, but he speedily consoled himself in the society of his\nbeautiful wife and children.\n\n    Some time for a husband to wait\n    Who is young, handsome, wealthy, and tender,\n    May not be a hardship too great\n    For a maid whom love happy would render.\n    But to be for a century bound\n    To live single, I fancy the number\n    Of Beauties but small would be found\n    So long who could patiently slumber.\n    To lovers who hate time to waste,\n    And minutes as centuries measure,\n    I would hint, Those who marry in haste\n    May live to repent it at leisure.\n    Yet so ardently onwards they press,\n    And on prudence so gallantly trample,\n    That I haven't the heart, I confess,\n    To urge on them Beauty's example.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[3] A celebrated distillation of spirit of wine upon rosemary,\nso-called from the receipt, purporting to have been written by a Queen\nElizabeth of Hungary, and first published at Frankfort in 1659.\n\n[4] From the explanation contained in this parenthesis, it is\nprobable that we have here the earliest mention of these celebrated\narticles in a French story; _Jack the Giant-killer_ and _Jack and the\nBean-stalk_ being of English origin.\n\n[5] _Collet-mont\u00e9._ The contemporary of the ruff. In the reign\nof Louis the Fourteenth it was succeeded by the _collet-rabattu_, and\ntotally discarded before his decease.\n\n[6] A sauce piquante, as ancient as the fifteenth century,\nbeing one of the seventeen sauces named by Taillevant, chief cook to\nCharles VII. of France, in 1456.\n\n\n\n\nMASTER CAT;\n\nOR,\n\nPUSS IN BOOTS.\n\n\nA Miller bequeathed to his three sons all his worldly goods, which\nconsisted only of his mill, his ass, and his cat. The division was\nspeedily made. Neither notary nor attorney were called in; they would\nsoon have eaten up all the little patrimony. The eldest had the mill;\nthe second son, the ass; and the youngest had nothing but the cat. The\nlatter was disconsolate at inheriting so poor a portion. \"My brothers,\"\nsaid he, \"may earn an honest livelihood by entering into partnership;\nbut, as for me, when I have eaten my Cat, and made a muff of his skin,\nI must die of hunger.\" The Cat, who had heard this speech, but without\nappearing to do so, said to him, with a sedate and serious air, \"Do\nnot afflict yourself, master; you have only to give me a bag and get a\npair of boots made for me, to go amongst the bushes in, and you will\nsee that you are not so badly left as you believe.\" Though the Cat's\nmaster did not place much confidence in this assertion, he had seen him\nplay such cunning tricks in catching rats and mice, when he would hang\nhimself up by the heels, or lie in the flour as if he were dead, that\nhe was not altogether hopeless of being assisted by him in his distress.\n\nAs soon as the Cat had what he asked for, he pulled on his boots\nboldly, and hanging the bag round his neck, he took the strings of\nit in his fore paws, and went into a warren where there were a great\nnumber of rabbits. He put some bran and some sow-thistles in his bag,\nand stretching himself out as if he were dead, he waited till some\nyoung rabbit, little versed in the wiles of the world, should come and\nensconce himself in the bag, in order to eat what he had put into it.\nHe had hardly laid down before he was gratified. A young scatterbrain\nof a rabbit entered the bag, and Master Cat instantly pulling the\nstrings, caught it and killed it without mercy. Proud of his prey, he\nwent to the King's Palace, and demanded an audience. He was ushered\nup to his Majesty's apartment, into which having entered, he made a\nlow bow to the King, and said to him, \"Sire, here is a wild rabbit,\nwhich my Lord the Marquis de Carabas (such was the name he took a fancy\nto give to his master) has ordered me to present, with his duty, to\nyour Majesty.\" \"Tell your master,\" replied the King, \"that I thank\nhim, and that he has given me great pleasure.\" Another day he went\nand hid himself in the wheat, holding the mouth of his bag open, as\nusual, and as soon as a brace of partridges entered it, he pulled the\nstrings, and took them both. He went immediately and presented them\nto the King, in the same way that he had the wild rabbit. The King\nreceived with equal gratification the brace of partridges, and gave\nhim something to drink his health. The Cat continued in this manner\nduring two or three months to carry to the King, every now and then,\npresents of game from his master. One day when he knew the King was\ngoing to drive on the banks of the river, with his daughter, the most\nbeautiful Princess in the world, he said to his master, \"If you will\nfollow my advice, your fortune is made; you have only to go and bathe\nin a part of the river I will point out to you, and leave the rest to\nme.\" The Marquis de Carabas did as his cat advised him, without knowing\nwhat good would come of it. While he was bathing, the King passed by,\nand the Cat began to shout with all his might, \"Help! help! My Lord\nthe Marquis de Carabas is drowning!\" At this cry, the King looked out\nof the coach window, and recognising the cat who had so often brought\ngame to him, ordered his guards to fly to the help of my Lord the\nMarquis de Carabas. Whilst they were getting the poor Marquis out of\nthe river, the Cat approaching the royal coach, told the King that\nduring the time his master was bathing, some robbers had come and\ncarried off his clothes, although he had called \"Thieves!\" as loud\nas he could. The rogue had hidden them himself under a great stone.\nThe King immediately ordered the officers of his wardrobe to go and\nfetch one of his handsomest suits for my Lord the Marquis de Carabas.\nThe King embraced him a thousand times, and as the fine clothes they\ndressed him in set off his good looks (for he was handsome and well\nmade), the King's daughter found him much to her taste; and the Marquis\nde Carabas had no sooner cast upon her two or three respectful and\nrather tender glances, than she fell desperately in love with him.\nThe King insisted upon his getting into the coach, and accompanying\nthem in their drive. The Cat, enchanted to see that his scheme began\nto succeed, ran on before, and having met with some peasants who were\nmowing a meadow, said to them, \"You, good people, who are mowing here,\nif you do not tell the King that the meadow you are mowing belongs to\nmy Lord the Marquis de Carabas, you shall be all cut into pieces as\nsmall as minced meat!\" The King failed not to ask the mowers whose\nmeadow it was they were mowing? \"It belongs to my Lord the Marquis de\nCarabas,\" said they altogether, for the Cat's threat had frightened\nthem. \"You perceive, Sire,\" rejoined the Marquis, \"it is a meadow which\nyields an abundant crop every year.\" Master Cat, who kept in advance\nof the party, came up to some reapers, and said to them, \"You, good\npeople, who are reaping, if you do not say that all this corn belongs\nto my Lord the Marquis de Carabas, you shall be all cut into pieces as\nsmall as minced meat!\" The King, who passed by a minute afterwards,\nwished to know to whom all those cornfields belonged that he saw there.\n\"To my Lord the Marquis de Carabas,\" repeated the reapers, and the King\nagain wished the Marquis joy of his property. The Cat, who ran before\nthe coach, uttered the same threat to all he met with, and the King\nwas astonished at the great wealth of my Lord the Marquis de Carabas.\nMaster Cat at length arrived at a fine Ch\u00e2teau, the owner of which was\nan Ogre, the richest that was ever known, for all the lands through\nwhich the King had driven were held of the Lord of this Ch\u00e2teau. The\nCat took care to inquire who the Ogre was, and what he was able to do;\nand then requested to speak with him, saying that he would not pass\nso near his Ch\u00e2teau without doing himself the honour of paying his\nrespects to him. The Ogre received him as civilly as an Ogre could, and\nmade him sit down. \"They assure me,\" said the Cat, \"that you possess\nthe power of changing yourself into all sorts of animals; that you\ncould, for instance, transform yourself into a lion, or an elephant.\"\n\"'Tis true,\" said the Ogre, brusquely, \"and to prove it to you, you\nshall see me become a lion.\" The Cat was so frightened at seeing a\nlion before him, that he immediately scampered up into the gutter, not\nwithout trouble and danger, on account of his boots, which were not\nfit to walk on the tiles with. A short time afterwards, the Cat having\nperceived that the Ogre had resumed his previous form, descended,\nand admitted that he had been terribly frightened. \"They assure me,\nbesides,\" said the Cat, \"but I cannot believe it, that you have also\nthe power to assume the form of the smallest animal; for instance, to\nchange yourself into a rat or a mouse. I confess to you I hold that\nto be utterly impossible.\" \"Impossible!\" replied the Ogre; \"you shall\nsee!\" and immediately changed himself into a mouse, which began to run\nabout the floor. The Cat no sooner caught sight of it than he pounced\nupon and devoured it. In the meanwhile, the King, who saw from the\nroad the fine Ch\u00e2teau of the Ogre, desired to enter it. The Cat, who\nheard the noise of the coach rolling over the drawbridge, ran to meet\nit, and said to the King, \"Your Majesty is welcome to the Ch\u00e2teau of\nmy Lord the Marquis de Carabas.\" \"How, my Lord Marquis,\" exclaimed the\nKing, \"this Ch\u00e2teau also belongs to you? Nothing can be finer than\nthis court-yard, and all these buildings that surround it. Let us see\nthe inside of it, if you please.\" The Marquis handed out the young\nPrincess, and following the King, who led the way upstairs, entered a\ngrand hall, where they found a magnificent collation, which the Ogre\nhad ordered to be prepared for some friends who were to have visited\nhim that very day, but who did not presume to enter when they found the\nKing was there. The King, as much enchanted by the accomplishments of\nmy Lord the Marquis de Carabas as his daughter, who doted upon him, and\nseeing the great wealth he possessed, said to him, after having drunk\nfive or six bumpers, \"It depends entirely on yourself, my Lord Marquis,\nwhether or not you become my son-in-law.\" The Marquis, making several\nprofound bows, accepted the honour the King offered him; and on the\nsame day was united to the Princess. The Cat became a great lord, and\nnever again ran after mice, except for his amusement.\n\n          Be the advantage ne'er so great\n          Of owning a superb estate,\n          From sire to son descended.\n          Young men oft find, on industry,\n          Combined with ingenuity,\n          They'd better have depended.\n\nALSO\n\n    If the son of a Miller so quickly could gain\n    The heart of a Princess, it seems pretty plain,\n    With good looks and good manners, and some aid from dress,\n    The humblest need not quite despair of success.\n\n\n\n\nCINDERELLA;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER.\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a gentleman who took for a second wife the\nhaughtiest and proudest woman that had ever been seen. She had two\ndaughters of the same temper, and who resembled her in everything. The\nhusband, on his side, had a daughter, but whose gentleness and goodness\nwere without parallel. She inherited them from her mother, who was the\nbest creature in the world. The wedding was hardly over before the\nstepmother's ill-humour broke out. She could not abide the young girl,\nwhose good qualities made her own daughters appear more detestable.\nShe employed her in all the meanest work of the house. It was she who\ncleaned the plate, and the stairs, who scrubbed Madame's chamber, and\nthose of Mesdemoiselles, her daughters. She slept at the top of the\nhouse, in a loft, on a wretched straw mattress, while her sisters\noccupied rooms, beautifully floored, in which were the most fashionable\nbeds, and mirrors wherein they could see themselves from head to foot.\nThe poor girl bore everything with patience, and did not dare complain\nto her father, who would only have scolded her, as his wife governed\nhim entirely. When she had done her work, she went and placed herself\nin the chimney-corner, and sat down amongst the cinders, which caused\nher to be called by the household in general Cindertail. The second\ndaughter, however, who was not so rude as her elder sister, called her\nCinderella. Notwithstanding, Cinderella, in her shabby clothes, looked\na thousand times handsomer than her sisters, however magnificently\nattired.\n\nIt happened that the King's son gave a ball, and invited to it\nall persons of quality. Our two young ladies were included in the\ninvitation, for they cut a great figure in the neighbourhood. Behold\nthem in great delight, and very busy choosing the most becoming gowns\nand head-dresses. A new mortification for Cinderella, for it was she\nwho ironed her sisters' linen, and set their ruffles. Nothing was\ntalked of but the style in which they were to be dressed. \"I,\" said\nthe eldest, \"will wear my red velvet dress and my English point-lace\ntrimmings.\" \"I,\" said the youngest, \"shall only wear my usual\npetticoat; but to make up for that, I shall put on my gold-flowered\nmantua, and my necklace of diamonds, which are none of the poorest.\"\nThey sent for a good milliner to make up their double-frilled caps,\nand bought their patches of the best maker. They called Cinderella to\ngive them her opinion, for she had excellent taste. Cinderella gave\nthem the best advice in the world, and even offered to dress their\nheads for them, which they were very willing she should do; and whilst\nshe was about it, they said to her, \"Cinderella, shouldst thou like\nto go to the ball?\" \"Alas! Mesdemoiselles, you make game of me; that\nwould not befit me at all.\" \"Thou art right, they would laugh immensely\nto see a Cindertail at a ball!\" Any other but Cinderella would have\ndressed their heads awry, but she was good natured, and dressed them to\nperfection. They could eat nothing for nearly two days, so transported\nwere they with joy. More than a dozen laces were broken in making\ntheir waists as small as possible, and they were always before their\nlooking-glasses. At last the happy day arrived. They set off, and\nCinderella followed them with her eyes as long as she could. When they\nwere out of sight, she began to cry. Her godmother, who saw her all in\ntears, inquired what ailed her. \"I should so like--I should so like--\"\nshe sobbed so much that she could not finish the sentence. \"Thou\nwouldst so like to go to the ball--Is not that it?\" \"Alas! yes,\" said\nCinderella, sighing. \"Well, if thou wilt be a good girl, I will take\ncare thou shalt go.\" She led her into her chamber, and said to her, \"Go\ninto the garden and bring me a pumpkin.\" Cinderella went immediately,\ngathered the finest she could find, and brought it to her godmother,\nunable to guess how the pumpkin could enable her to go to the ball.\nHer godmother scooped it out; and, having left nothing but the rind,\nstruck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was immediately changed into\na beautiful coach gilt all over. She then went and looked into the\nmouse-trap, where she found six mice, all alive. She told Cinderella\nto lift the door of the mouse-trap a little, and to each mouse, as it\nran out, she gave a tap with her wand, and the mouse was immediately\nchanged into a fine horse, thereby producing a handsome team of six\nhorses, of a beautiful dappled mouse-grey colour. As she was in some\ndifficulty as to what she should make a coachman of, Cinderella said,\n\"I will go and see if there be not a rat in the rat-trap; we will make\na coachman of him.\" \"Thou art right,\" said her godmother. \"Go and see.\"\nCinderella brought her the rat-trap, in which there were three great\nrats. The Fairy selected one from the three, on account of its ample\nbeard, and having touched it, it was changed into a fat coachman, who\nhad the finest moustaches that ever were seen. She then said, \"Go into\nthe garden, thou wilt find there, behind the watering-pot, six lizards,\nbring them to me.\" She had no sooner brought them than the godmother\ntransformed them into six footmen, who immediately jumped up behind the\ncoach, with their liveries all covered with lace, and hung on to it as\nif they had done nothing else all their lives. The Fairy then said to\nCinderella, \"Well, there is something to go to the ball in. Art thou\nnot well pleased?\" \"Yes; but am I to go in these dirty clothes?\" Her\ngodmother only touched her with her wand, and in the same instant her\ndress was changed to cloth of gold and silver, covered with jewels. She\nthen gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the world.\nWhen she was thus attired, she got into the coach; but her godmother\nadvised her, above all things, not to stay out past midnight--warning\nher, that if she remained at the ball one minute longer, her coach\nwould again become a pumpkin; her horses, mice; her footmen, lizards;\nand her clothes resume their old appearance. She promised her godmother\nshe would not fail to leave the ball before midnight, and departed, out\nof her senses with joy.\n\nThe King's son, who was informed that a grand Princess had arrived\nwhom nobody knew, ran to receive her. He handed her out of the coach\nand led her into the hall, where the company was assembled. There was\nimmediately a dead silence; they stopped dancing, and the fiddlers\nceased to play, so engrossed was every one in the contemplation of the\ngreat attractions of the unknown lady. Nothing was heard but a low\nmurmur of \"Oh! how lovely she is!\" The King himself, old as he was,\ncould not take his eyes from her, and observed to the Queen, that it\nwas a long time since he had seen so beautiful and so amiable a person.\nAll the ladies were intently occupied in examining her head-dress\nand her clothes, that they might have some like them the very next\nday, provided they could find materials as beautiful, and workpeople\nsufficiently clever to make them up.\n\nThe King's son conducted her to the most honourable seat, and then led\nher out to dance. She danced with so much grace that their admiration\nof her was increased. A very grand supper was served, of which the\nPrince ate not a morsel, so absorbed was he in contemplation of her.\nShe seated herself beside her sisters, and showed them a thousand\ncivilities. She shared with them the oranges and citrons which the\nPrince had given to her; at which they were much surprised, for she\nappeared a perfect stranger to them. Whilst they were in conversation\ntogether, Cinderella heard the clock strike three-quarters past eleven.\nShe immediately made a profound curtsey to the company, and departed\nas quickly as she could. As soon as she had reached home, she went\nto find her godmother; and after having thanked her, said she much\nwished to go to the ball again the next day, because the King's son\nhad invited her. While she was occupied in telling her godmother all\nthat had passed at the ball, the two sisters knocked at the door.\nCinderella went and opened it--\"How late you are!\" said she to them,\nyawning, rubbing her eyes, and stretching herself as if she had but\njust awoke. She had not, however, been inclined to sleep since she had\nleft them. \"Hadst thou been at the ball,\" said one of her sisters to\nher, \"thou wouldst not have been weary of it. There came to it the most\nbeautiful Princess--the most beautiful that ever was seen. She paid us\na thousand attentions. She gave us oranges and citrons.\" Cinderella was\nbeside herself with delight. She asked them the name of the Princess;\nbut they replied that nobody knew her; that the King's son was much\npuzzled about it, and that he would give everything in the world to\nknow who she was. Cinderella smiled and said, \"She was very handsome,\nthen? Heavens! how fortunate you are!--Could not I get a sight of her?\nAlas! Mademoiselle Javotte, lend me the yellow gown you wear every\nday?\" \"Truly,\" said Mademoiselle Javotte, \"I like that! Lend one's gown\nto a dirty Cindertail like you!--I must be very mad indeed!\" Cinderella\nfully expected this refusal, and was delighted at it, for she would\nhave been greatly embarrassed if her sister had lent her her gown.\n\nThe next day the two sisters went to the ball, and Cinderella also,\nbut still more splendidly dressed than before. The King's son never\nleft her side, or ceased saying tender things to her. The young lady\nwas much amused, and forgot what her godmother had advised her, so\nthat she heard the clock begin to strike twelve when she did not even\nthink it was eleven. She rose and fled as lightly as a fawn. The Prince\nfollowed her, but could not overtake her. She dropped one of her glass\nslippers, which the Prince carefully picked up. Cinderella reached home\nalmost breathless, without coach or footmen, and in her shabby clothes,\nnothing having remained of all her finery, except one of her little\nslippers, the fellow of that she had let fall. The guards at the palace\ngate were asked if they had not seen a Princess go out; they answered\nthat they had seen no one pass but a poorly-dressed girl, who had more\nthe air of a peasant than of a lady. When the two sisters returned from\nthe ball, Cinderella asked them if they had been as much entertained as\nbefore, and if the beautiful lady had been present. They said yes, but\nthat she had fled as soon as it had struck twelve, and so precipitately\nthat she had let fall one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest\nin the world; that the King's son had picked it up; that he had done\nnothing but gaze upon it during the remainder of the evening; and\nthat, undoubtedly, he was very much in love with the beautiful person\nto whom the little slipper belonged. They spoke the truth; for a few\ndays afterwards the King's son caused it to be proclaimed by sound\nof trumpet that he would marry her whose foot would exactly match\nwith the slipper. They began by trying it on the Princesses, then on\nthe Duchesses, and so on throughout all the Court; but in vain. It\nwas taken to the two sisters, who did their utmost to force one of\ntheir feet into the slipper, but they could not manage to do so.\nCinderella, who witnessed their efforts and recognised the slipper,\nsaid, laughingly, \"Let me see if it will not fit me.\" Her sisters began\nto laugh and ridicule her. The gentleman who had been entrusted to try\nthe slipper, having attentively looked at Cinderella and found her to\nbe very handsome, said that it was a very proper request, and that he\nhad been ordered to try the slipper on all girls without exception. He\nmade Cinderella sit down, and putting the slipper to her little foot,\nhe saw it go on easily and fit like wax. Great was the astonishment\nof the two sisters, but it was still greater when Cinderella took the\nother little slipper out of her pocket and put it on her other foot. At\nthat moment the godmother arrived, who having given a tap with her wand\nto Cinderella's clothes, they became still more magnificent than all\nthe others she had appeared in. The two sisters then recognised in her\nthe beautiful person they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves\nat her feet to crave her forgiveness for all the ill-treatment she had\nsuffered from them. Cinderella raised and embracing them, said that she\nforgave them with all her heart, and begged them to love her dearly for\nthe future. They conducted her to the young Prince, dressed just as she\nwas. He found her handsomer than ever, and a few days afterwards he\nmarried her. Cinderella, who was as kind as she was beautiful, gave her\nsisters apartments in the palace, and married them the very same day to\ntwo great lords of the court.\n\n    Beauty in woman is a treasure rare\n    Which we are never weary of admiring;\n    But a sweet temper is a gift more fair\n    And better worth the youthful maid's desiring.\n    That was the boon bestowed on Cinderella\n    By her wise Godmother--her truest glory.\n    The rest was \"nought but leather and prunella.\"\n    Such is the moral of this little story--\n    Beauties, that charm becomes you more than dress,\n    And wins a heart with far greater facility.\n    In short, in all things to ensure success,\n    The real Fairy gift is Amiability!\n\nALSO\n\n    Talent, courage, wit, and worth\n    Are rare gifts to own on earth.\n    But if you want to thrive at court--\n    So, at least, the wise report--\n    You will find you need some others,\n    Such as god-fathers or mothers.\n\n\n\n\nRIQUET WITH THE TUFT.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a Queen, who was brought to bed of a son\nso ugly and so ill-shaped that it was for a long time doubtful if he\npossessed a human form. A Fairy, who was present at his birth, affirmed\nthat he would not fail to be amiable, as he would have much good-sense.\nShe added, even, that he would be able, in consequence of the gift she\nhad endowed him with, to impart equal intelligence to the person he\nshould love best. All this consoled the poor Queen a little, who was\nmuch distressed at having brought into the world so hideous a little\nmonkey. It is true that the child was no sooner able to speak than he\nsaid a thousand pretty things, and that there was in all his actions an\nindescribable air of intelligence which charmed one. I had forgotten\nto say that he was born with a little tuft of hair on his head, which\noccasioned him to be named Riquet with the Tuft; for Riquet was the\nfamily name.\n\nAt the end of seven or eight years, the Queen of a neighbouring kingdom\nwas brought to bed of two daughters. The first that came into the\nworld was fairer than day. The Queen was so delighted, that it was\nfeared her great joy would prove hurtful to her. The same Fairy who had\nassisted at the birth of little Riquet with the Tuft was present upon\nthis occasion, and to moderate the joy of the Queen, she declared to\nher that this little Princess would have no mental capacity, and that\nshe would be as stupid as she was beautiful. This mortified the Queen\nexceedingly; but a few minutes afterwards she experienced a very much\ngreater annoyance, for the second girl she gave birth to, proved to\nbe extremely ugly. \"Do not distress yourself so much, Madam,\" said\nthe Fairy to her. \"Your daughter will find compensation; she will have\nso much sense that her lack of beauty will scarcely be perceived.\"\n\"Heaven send it may be so,\" replied the Queen; \"but are there no means\nof giving a little sense to the eldest, who is so lovely?\" \"I can\ndo nothing for her, Madam, in the way of wit,\" said the Fairy, \"but\neverything in that of beauty; and as there is nothing in my power that\nI would not do to gratify you, I will endow her with the ability to\nrender beautiful the person who shall please her.\"\n\nAs these two Princesses grew up, their endowments increased in the\nsame proportion, and nothing was talked of anywhere but the beauty of\nthe eldest and the intelligence of the youngest. It is true that their\ndefects also greatly increased with their years. The youngest became\nuglier every instant, and the eldest more stupid every day. She either\nmade no answer when she was spoken to, or she said something foolish.\nWith this she was so awkward, that she could not place four pieces of\nchina on a mantel-shelf without breaking one of them, nor drink a glass\nof water without spilling half of it on her dress. Notwithstanding the\ngreat advantage of beauty to a girl, the youngest bore away the palm\nfrom her sister nearly always, in every society. At first they gathered\nround the handsomest, to gaze at and admire her; but they soon left her\nfor the wittiest, to listen to a thousand agreeable things; and people\nwere astonished to find that, in less than a quarter of an hour, the\neldest had not a soul near her, and that all the company had formed\na circle round the youngest. The former, though very stupid, noticed\nthis, and would have given, without regret, all her beauty for half\nthe sense of her sister. The Queen, discreet as she was, could not\nhelp reproaching her frequently with her folly, which made the poor\nPrincess ready to die of grief. One day that she had withdrawn into a\nwood to bewail her misfortune, she saw a little man approach her, of\nmost disagreeable appearance, but dressed very magnificently. It was\nthe young Prince Riquet with the Tuft, who, having fallen in love with\nher from seeing her portraits, which were sent all round the world,\nhad quitted his father's kingdom to have the pleasure of beholding and\nspeaking to her. Enchanted to meet her thus alone, he accosted her with\nall the respect and politeness imaginable. Having remarked, after\npaying the usual compliments, that she was very melancholy, he said to\nher, \"I cannot comprehend, Madam, how a person so beautiful as you are\ncan be so sad as you appear; for though I may boast of having seen an\ninfinity of lovely women, I can avouch that I have never beheld one\nwhose beauty could be compared to yours.\" \"You are pleased to say so,\nSir,\" replied the Princess; and there she stopped. \"Beauty,\" continued\nRiquet, \"is so great an advantage, that it ought to surpass all others;\nand when one possesses it, I do not see anything that could very much\ndistress you.\" \"I had rather,\" said the Princess, \"be as ugly as you,\nand have good sense, than possess the beauty I do, and be as stupid\nas I am.\" \"There is no greater proof of good sense, Madam, than the\nbelief that we have it not; it is the nature of that gift, that the\nmore we have, the more we believe we are deficient of it.\" \"I do not\nknow how that may be,\" said the Princess, \"but I know well enough that\nI am very stupid, and that is the cause of the grief which is killing\nme.\" \"If that is all that afflicts you, Madam, I can easily put an end\nto your sorrow.\" \"And how would you do that?\" said the Princess. \"I\nhave the power, Madam,\" said Riquet with the Tuft, \"to give as much\nwit as any one can possess to the person I love the most; and as you,\nMadam, are that person, it will depend entirely upon yourself whether\nor not you will have so much wit, provided that you are willing to\nmarry me.\" The Princess was thunderstruck, and replied not a word. \"I\nsee,\" said Riquet with the Tuft, \"that this proposal pains you; and I\nam not surprised at it; but I give you a full year to consider of it.\"\nThe Princess had so little sense, and at the same time was so anxious\nto have a great deal, that she thought the end of that year would never\ncome; so she accepted at once the offer that was made her. She had no\nsooner promised Riquet with the Tuft that she would marry him that day\ntwelve months, than she felt herself to be quite another person to what\nshe was previously. She found she possessed an incredible facility of\nsaying anything she wished, and of saying it in a shrewd, yet easy and\nnatural manner. She commenced on the instant, and kept up a sprightly\nconversation with Riquet with the Tuft, during which she chatted away\nat such a rate, that Riquet with the Tuft began to believe he had given\nher more wit than he had kept for himself. When she returned to the\nPalace, the whole Court was puzzled to account for a change so sudden\nand extraordinary, for in proportion to the number of foolish things\nthey had heard her say formerly, were the sensible and exceedingly\nclever observations she now gave utterance to. All the Court was in a\nstate of joy which is not to be conceived. The younger sister alone\nwas not very much pleased, as no longer possessing over her elder\nsister the advantage of wit, she now only appeared, by her side,\nas a very disagreeable-looking person. The King was now led by his\neldest daughter's advice, and sometimes even held his Council in her\napartment. The news of this alteration having spread abroad, all the\nyoung Princes of the neighbouring kingdoms exerted themselves to obtain\nher affection, and nearly all of them asked her hand in marriage; but\nshe found none of them sufficiently intelligent, and she listened to\nall of them without engaging herself to any one.\n\nAt length arrived a Prince so rich, so witty, and so handsome, that\nshe could not help feeling an inclination for him. Her father, having\nperceived it, told her that he left her at perfect liberty to choose a\nhusband for herself, and that she had only to make known her decision.\nAs the more sense we possess, the more difficulty we find in making up\none's mind positively on such a matter, she requested, after having\nthanked her father, that he would allow her some time to think of it.\nShe went, by chance, to walk in the same wood where she had met with\nRiquet with the Tuft, in order to ponder with greater freedom on what\nshe had to do. While she was walking, deep in thought, she heard a dull\nsound beneath her feet, as of many persons running to and fro, and\nbusily occupied. Having listened more attentively, she heard one say,\n\"Bring me that saucepan;\" another, \"Give me that kettle;\" another, \"Put\nsome wood on the fire.\" At the same moment the ground opened, and she\nsaw beneath her what appeared to be a large kitchen, full of cooks,\nscullions, and all sorts of servants necessary for the preparation of a\nmagnificent banquet. There came forth a band of from twenty to thirty\ncooks, who went and established themselves in an avenue of the wood\nat a very long table, and who, each with larding-pin in hand and _the\nqueue de renard_[7] behind the ear, set to work, keeping time to a\nmelodious song.\n\nThe Princess, astonished at this sight, inquired for whom they were\nworking. \"Madam,\" replied the most prominent of the troop, \"for Prince\nRiquet with the Tuft, whose marriage will take place to-morrow.\" The\nPrincess, still more surprised than she was before, and suddenly\nrecollecting that it was just a twelvemonth from the day on which\nshe had promised to marry Prince Riquet with the Tuft, was lost in\namazement. The cause of her not having remembered her promise was, that\nwhen she made it she was a fool, and on receiving her new mind, she\nforgot all her follies. She had not taken thirty steps in continuation\nof her walk, when Riquet with the Tuft presented himself before her,\ngaily and magnificently attired, like a Prince about to be married.\n\"You see, Madam,\" said he, \"I keep my word punctually, and I doubt not\nbut that you have come hither to keep yours, and to make me, by the\ngift of your hand, the happiest of men.\" \"I confess to you, frankly,\"\nreplied the Princess, \"that I have not yet made up my mind on that\nmatter, and that I do not think I shall ever be able to do so to your\nsatisfaction.\" \"You astonish me, Madam,\" said Riquet with the Tuft.\n\"I have no doubt I do,\" said the Princess; \"and assuredly, had I to\ndeal with a stupid person--a man without mind,--I should feel greatly\nembarrassed. 'A Princess is bound by her word,' he would say to me,\n'and you must marry me, as you have promised to do so.' But as the\nperson to whom I speak is the most sensible man in all the world, I\nam certain he will listen to reason. You know that, when I was no\nbetter than a fool, I nevertheless could not resolve to marry you--how\ncan you expect, now that I have the sense which you have given me,\nand which renders me much more difficult to please than before, that\nI should take a resolution to-day which I could not do then? If you\nseriously thought of marrying me, you did very wrong to take away\nmy stupidity, and enable me to see clearer than I saw then.\" \"If a\nman without sense,\" replied Riquet with the Tuft, \"should meet with\nsome indulgence, as you have just intimated, had he to reproach you\nwith your breach of promise, why would you, Madam, that I should not\nbe equally so in a matter which affects the entire happiness of my\nlife? Is it reasonable that persons of intellect should be in a worse\ncondition than those that have none? Can you assert this--you who have\nso much and have so earnestly desired to possess it? But let us come to\nthe point, if you please. With the exception of my ugliness, is there\nanything in me that displeases you? Are you dissatisfied with my birth,\nmy understanding, my temper, or my manners?\"\n\n\"Not in the least,\" replied the Princess; \"I admire in you everything\nyou have mentioned.\" \"If so,\" rejoined Riquet with the Tuft, \"I shall\nbe happy, as you have it in your power to make me the most agreeable\nof men.\" \"How can that be done?\" said the Princess. \"It can be done,\"\nsaid Riquet with the Tuft, \"if you love me sufficiently to wish that\nit should be. And in order, Madam, that you should have no doubt about\nit, know that the same fairy, who, on the day I was born, endowed me\nwith the power to give understanding to the person I chose, gave you\nalso the power to render handsome the man you should love, and on whom\nyou were desirous to bestow that favour.\" \"If such be the fact,\" said\nthe Princess, \"I wish, with all my heart, that you should become the\nhandsomest Prince in the world, and I bestow the gift on you to the\nfullest extent in my power.\"\n\nThe Princess had no sooner pronounced these words, than Riquet with the\nTuft appeared to her eyes, of all men in the world, the handsomest,\nthe best made, and most amiable she had ever seen. There are some who\nassert that it was not the spell of the Fairy, but love alone that\ncaused this metamorphosis. They say that the Princess, having reflected\non the perseverance of her lover--on his prudence, and all the good\nqualities of his heart and mind, no longer saw the deformity of his\nbody nor the ugliness of his features--that his hunch appeared to her\nnothing more than the effect of a man shrugging his shoulders, and that\ninstead of observing, as she had done, that he limped horribly, she saw\nin him no more than a certain lounging air, which charmed her. They say\nalso that his eyes, which squinted, seemed to her only more brilliant\nfrom that defect, which passed in her mind for a proof of the intensity\nof his love, and, in fine, that his great red nose had in it something\nmartial and heroic. However this may be, the Princess promised on\nthe spot to marry him, provided he obtained the consent of the King,\nher Father. The King, having learned that his daughter entertained a\ngreat regard for Riquet with the Tuft, whom he knew also to be a very\nclever and wise prince, accepted him with pleasure for a son-in-law.\nThe wedding took place the next morning, as Riquet with the Tuft had\nforeseen, and, according to the instructions which he had given a long\ntime before.\n\n    No beauty, no talent, has power above\n    Some indefinite charm discern'd only by love.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[7] See Appendix.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE THUMBLING.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a Woodcutter and his wife who had seven\nchildren, all boys; the eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest\nonly seven. People wondered that the Woodcutter had had so many\nchildren in so short a time; but the fact is, that his wife not only\nhad them very fast, but seldom presented him with less than two at a\nbirth. They were very poor, and their seven children troubled them\ngreatly, as not one of them was yet able to gain his livelihood. What\ngrieved them still more was that the youngest was very delicate, and\nseldom spoke, which they considered a proof of stupidity instead of\ngood sense. He was very diminutive, and, when first born, scarcely\nbigger than one's thumb, which caused them to call him Little Thumbling.\n\nThis poor child was the scapegoat of the house, and was blamed for\neverything that happened. Nevertheless he was the shrewdest and most\nsensible of all his brothers, and if he spoke little, he listened\na great deal. There came a very bad harvest, and the famine was so\nsevere that these poor people determined to get rid of their children.\nOne evening, when they were all in bed, and the Woodman was sitting\nover the fire with his wife, he said to her, with an aching heart,\n\"Thou seest clearly that we can no longer find food for our children.\nI cannot let them die of hunger before my eyes, and I am resolved to\nlose them to-morrow in the wood, which will be easily done, for whilst\nthey are occupied in tying up the faggots, we have but to make off\nunobserved by them.\" \"Ah!\" exclaimed the Woodcutter's wife, \"Canst\nthou have the heart to lose thine own children?\" Her husband in vain\nrepresented to her their exceeding poverty; she could not consent to\nthe deed. She was poor, but she was their mother. Having, however,\nreflected on the misery it would occasion her to see them die of\nhunger, she at length assented, and went to bed weeping.\n\nLittle Thumbling heard everything they had said, for having\nascertained, as he lay in his bed, that they were talking of their\naffairs, he got up quietly, and slipped under his father's stool to\nlisten, without being seen. He went to bed again, and slept not a wink\nthe rest of the night, thinking what he should do. He rose early and\nrepaired to the banks of a rivulet, where he filled his pockets with\nsmall white pebbles, and then returned home. They set out all together,\nand Little Thumbling said nothing of what he had heard to his brothers.\nThey entered a very thick forest, wherein, at ten paces distant, they\ncould not see one another. The Woodcutter began to cut wood, and\nhis children to pick up sticks to make faggots with. The father and\nmother, seeing them occupied with their work, stole away gradually, and\nthen fled suddenly by a small winding path. When the children found\nthemselves all alone, they began to scream and cry with all their\nmight. Little Thumbling let them scream, well knowing how he could\nget home again, for as he came he had dropped all along the road the\nlittle white pebbles he had in his pockets. He said to them then, \"Fear\nnothing, brothers, my father and mother have left us here, but I will\ntake you safely home, only follow me.\" They followed him, and he led\nthem back to the house by the same road that they had taken into the\nforest. They feared to enter immediately, but placed themselves close\nto the door to listen to the conversation of their father and mother.\n\nJust at the moment that the Woodcutter and his wife arrived at home,\nthe lord of the manor sent them ten crowns which he had owed them a\nlong time, and which they had given up all hope of receiving. This was\nnew life to them, for these poor people were actually starving. The\nWoodcutter sent his wife to the butcher's immediately. As it was many\na day since they had tasted meat, she bought three times as much as\nwas necessary for the supper of two persons. When they had satisfied\ntheir hunger, the Woodcutter's wife said, \"Alas! where now are our\npoor children; they would fare merrily on what we have left. But it\nwas thou, Guillaume, who wouldst lose them. Truly did I say we should\nrepent it. What are they now doing in the forest! Alas! Heaven help\nme! the wolves have, perhaps, already devoured them! Inhuman that thou\nart, thus to have destroyed thy children!\" The Woodcutter began to lose\nhis temper, for she repeated more than twenty times that they should\nrepent it, and that she had said they would. He threatened to beat her\nif she did not hold her tongue. It was not that the Woodcutter was\nnot, perhaps, even more sorry than his wife, but that she made such a\nnoise about it, and that he was like many other men who are very fond\nof women who can talk well, but are exceedingly annoyed by those whose\nwords always come true. The wife was all in tears. \"Alas! where are\nnow my children, my poor children?\" She uttered this, at length, so\nloudly, that the children, who were at the door, heard her, and began\nto cry altogether, \"We are here! we are here!\" She ran quickly to open\nthe door to them, and, embracing them, exclaimed, \"How happy I am to\nsee you again, my dear children; you are very tired and hungry. And how\ndirty thou art, Pierrot; come here and let me wash thee.\" Pierrot was\nher eldest son, and she loved him better than all the rest because he\nwas rather red-headed, and she was slightly so herself. They sat down\nto supper, and ate with an appetite that delighted their father and\nmother, to whom they related how frightened they were in the forest,\nspeaking almost always all together. The good folks were enchanted to\nsee their children once more around them, and their joy lasted as long\nas the ten crowns; but when the money was spent they relapsed into\ntheir former misery, and resolved to lose the children again, and to do\nso effectually they determined to lead them much further from home than\nthey had done the first time.\n\nThey could not talk of this so privately, but that they were overheard\nby Little Thumbling, who reckoned upon getting out of the scrape by the\nsame means as before; but though he got up very early to collect the\nlittle pebbles, he could not succeed in his object, for he found the\nhouse door double locked. He knew not what to do, when the Woodcutter's\nwife, having given them each a piece of bread for their breakfast, it\noccurred to him that he might make the bread supply the place of the\npebbles by strewing crumbs of it along the path as they went, and so\nhe put his piece in his pocket. The father and mother led them into\nthe thickest and darkest part of the forest; and as soon as they had\ndone so, they gained a by-path, and left them there. Little Thumbling\ndid not trouble himself much, for he believed he should easily find\nhis way back by means of the bread which he had scattered wherever he\nhad passed; but he was greatly surprised at not being able to find a\nsingle crumb. The birds had eaten it all up! Behold the poor children\nthen, in great distress, for the further they wandered the deeper they\nplunged into the forest. Night came on, and a great wind arose, which\nterrified them horribly. They fancied they heard on every side nothing\nbut the howling of wolves, hastening to devour them. They scarcely\ndared to speak or look behind them. It then began to rain so heavily\nthat they were soon drenched to the skin; they slipped at every step,\ntumbling into the mud, out of which they scrambled in a filthy state,\nnot knowing what to do with their hands. Little Thumbling climbed up\na tree to try if he could see anything from the top of it. Having\nlooked all about him, he saw a little light like that of a candle,\nbut it was a long way on the other side of the forest. He came down\nagain, and when he had reached the ground he could see the light no\nlonger. This distressed him greatly; but having walked on with his\nbrothers for some time in the direction of the light, he saw it again\non emerging from the wood. At length they reached the house where the\nlight was, not without many alarms, for they often lost sight of it,\nand always when they descended into the valleys. They knocked loudly at\nthe door, and a good woman came to open it. She asked them what they\nwanted. Little Thumbling told her they were poor children who had lost\ntheir way in the forest, and who begged a night's lodging for charity.\nThe woman, seeing they were all so pretty, began to weep, and said\nto them, \"Alas! my poor children, whither have you come? Know that\nthis is the dwelling of an Ogre who eats little boys!\" \"Alas, Madam!\"\nreplied Little Thumbling, who trembled from head to foot, as did all\nhis brothers; \"what shall we do?--It is certain that the wolves of the\nforest will not fail to devour us to-night, if you refuse to receive us\nunder your roof, and that being the case, we had rather be eaten by\nthe gentleman; perhaps he may have pity upon us, if you are kind enough\nto ask him.\" The Ogre's wife, who fancied she could contrive to hide\nthem from her husband till the next morning, allowed them to come in,\nand led them where they could warm themselves by a good fire, for there\nwas a whole sheep on the spit roasting for the Ogre's supper. Just as\nthey were beginning to get warm, they heard two or three loud knocks\nat the door. It was the Ogre who had come home. His wife immediately\nmade the children hide under the bed, and went to open the door. The\nOgre first asked if his supper was ready and if she had drawn the wine,\nand with that he sat down to his meal. The mutton was all but raw, but\nhe liked it all the better for that. He sniffed right and left, saying\nthat he smelt fresh meat. \"It must be the calf I have just skinned that\nyou smell,\" said his wife. \"I smell fresh meat, I tell you once more,\"\nreplied the Ogre, looking askance at his wife; \"there is something\nhere that I don't understand.\" In saying these words, he rose from the\ntable and went straight to the bed--\"Ah!\" he exclaimed, \"it is thus,\nthen, thou wouldst deceive me, cursed woman! I know not what hinders me\nfrom eating thee also! It is well for thee that thou art an old beast!\nHere is some game, which comes in good time for me to entertain three\nOgres of my acquaintance who are coming to see me in a day or two.\" He\ndragged them from under the bed one after the other. The poor children\nfell on their knees, begging mercy; but they had to deal with the\nmost cruel of all the Ogres, and who, far from feeling pity for them,\ndevoured them already with his eyes, and said to his wife they would be\ndainty bits, when she had made a good sauce for them. He went to fetch\na great knife, and as he returned to the poor children, he whetted it\non a long stone that he held in his left hand. He had already seized\none, when his wife said to him, \"What would you do at this hour of the\nnight? will it not be time enough to-morrow?\" \"Hold thy peace,\" replied\nthe Ogre, \"they will be the more tender.\" \"But you have already so\nmuch meat,\" returned his wife; \"Here is a calf, two sheep, and half a\npig.\" \"Thou art right,\" said the Ogre; \"give them a good supper, that\nthey may not fall away, and then put them to bed.\" The good woman was\nenchanted, and brought them plenty for supper, but they couldn't eat,\nthey were so paralysed with fright. As for the Ogre, he seated himself\nto drink again, delighted to think he had such a treat in store for his\nfriends. He drained a dozen goblets more than usual, which affected his\nhead a little, and obliged him to go to bed.\n\nThe Ogre had seven daughters who were still in their infancy. These\nlittle Ogresses had the most beautiful complexions, in consequence of\ntheir eating raw flesh like their father; but they had very small,\nround, grey eyes, hooked noses, and very large mouths, with long teeth,\nexceedingly sharp, and wide apart. They were not very vicious as yet;\nbut they promised fairly to be so, for they already began to bite\nlittle children, in order to suck their blood. They had been sent to\nbed early, and were all seven in a large bed, having each a crown of\ngold on her head. In the same room was another bed of the same size.\nIt was in this bed that the Ogre's wife put the seven little boys to\nsleep, after which she went to sleep with her husband.\n\nLittle Thumbling, who had remarked that the Ogre's daughters had golden\ncrowns on their heads, and who feared that the Ogre might regret that\nhe had not killed him and his brothers that evening, got up in the\nmiddle of the night, and, taking off his own nightcap and those of his\nbrothers, went very softly and placed them on the heads of the Ogre's\nseven daughters, after having taken off their golden crowns, which he\nput on his brothers and himself, in order that the Ogre might mistake\nthem for his daughters, and his daughters for the boys whose throats he\nlonged to cut.\n\nMatters turned out exactly as he anticipated, for the Ogre awaking at\nmidnight, regretted having deferred till the morning what he might\nhave done the evening before. He therefore jumped suddenly out of bed,\nand seizing his great knife, \"Let us go,\" said he, \"and see how our\nyoung rogues are by this time; we won't make two bites at a cherry.\"\nTherewith he stole on tiptoes up to his daughters' bed-room, and\napproached the bed in which lay the little boys, who were all asleep\nexcept Thumbling, who was dreadfully frightened when the Ogre placed\nhis hand upon his head to feel it, as he had in turn felt those of all\nhis brothers.\n\nThe Ogre, who felt the golden crowns, said, \"Truly, I was about to do\na pretty job! It's clear I must have drunk too much last night.\" He\nthen went to the bed where his daughters slept, and having felt the\nlittle nightcaps that belonged to the boys. \"Aha!\" cried he. \"Here\nare our young wags! Let us to work boldly!\" So saying, he cut without\nhesitation the throats of his seven daughters. Well satisfied with this\nexploit, he returned and stretched himself beside his wife. As soon as\nLittle Thumbling heard the Ogre snoring, he woke his brothers, and bade\nthem dress themselves quickly and follow him. They went down softly\ninto the garden and jumped over the wall. They ran nearly all night\nlong, trembling all the way, and not knowing whither they were going.\n\nThe Ogre, awaking in the morning, said to his wife, \"Get thee up stairs\nand dress the little rogues you took in last night.\" The Ogress was\nastonished at the kindness of her husband, never suspecting the sort\nof dressing he meant her to give them, and fancying he ordered her to\ngo and put on their clothes; she went up stairs, where she was greatly\nsurprised to find her daughters murdered and swimming in their blood.\nThe first thing she did was to faint (for it is the first thing that\nalmost all women do in similar circumstances). The Ogre, fearing that\nhis wife would be too long about the job he had given her to do, went\nupstairs to help her. He was not less surprised than his wife, when he\nbeheld this frightful spectacle. \"Hah! what have I done?\" he exclaimed.\n\"The wretches shall pay for it, and instantly!\" He then threw a jugfull\nof water in his wife's face, and having brought her to, said, \"Quick!\ngive me my seven-league boots, that I may go and catch them.\" He set\nout, and after running in every direction, came at last upon the track\nof the poor children, who were not more than a hundred yards from their\nfather's house. They saw the Ogre striding from hill to hill, and who\nstepped over rivers as easily as if they were the smallest brooks.\nLittle Thumbling, who perceived a hollow rock close by where they were,\nhid his brothers in it, and crept in after them, watching all the while\nthe progress of the Ogre. The Ogre, feeling very tired with his long\njourney to no purpose (for seven-league boots are very fatiguing to the\nwearer), was inclined to rest, and by chance sat down on the very rock\nin which the little boys had concealed themselves. As he was quite worn\nout, he had not rested long before he fell asleep, and began to snore\nso dreadfully that the poor children were not less frightened than they\nwere when he took up the great knife to cut their throats.\n\nLittle Thumbling was not so much alarmed, and told his brothers to run\nquickly into the house while the Ogre was sound asleep, and not to\nbe uneasy about him. They took his advice and speedily reached home.\nLittle Thumbling having approached the Ogre, gently pulled off his\nboots, and put them on directly. The boots were very large and very\nlong; but as they were fairy boots, they possessed the quality of\nincreasing or diminishing in size according to the leg of the person\nwho wore them, so that they fitted him as perfectly as if they had been\nmade for him. He went straight to the Ogre's house, where he found his\nwife weeping over her murdered daughters. \"Your husband,\" said Little\nThumbling to her, \"is in great danger, for he has been seized by a band\nof robbers, who have sworn to kill him if he does not give them all his\ngold and silver. At the moment they had their daggers at his throat\nhe perceived me, and entreated me to come and tell you the situation\nhe was in, and bid you give me all his ready cash, without keeping\nback any of it, as otherwise they will kill him without mercy. As time\npressed, he insisted I should take his seven-league boots, which you\nsee I have on, in order that I might make haste, and also that you\nmight be sure I was not imposing upon you.\"\n\nThe good woman, very much alarmed, immediately gave him all the money\nshe could find, for the Ogre was not a bad husband to her, although he\nate little children. Little Thumbling, thus laden with all the wealth\nof the Ogre, hastened back to his father's house, where he was received\nwith great joy.\n\nThere are many persons who differ in their account of this part of\nthe story, and who pretend that Little Thumbling never committed this\nrobbery, and that he only considered himself justified in taking the\nOgre's seven-league boots, because he used them expressly to run after\nlittle children. These people assert that they have heard it from good\nauthority, and that they have even eaten and drunk in the Woodcutter's\nhouse. They assure us that when Little Thumbling had put on the Ogre's\nboots, he went to Court, where he knew they were in much trouble about\nan army which was within two hundred leagues of them, and anxious to\nlearn the success of a battle that had been fought. They say he went\nto seek the King, and told him that if he desired it, he would bring\nhim back news of the army before the end of the day. The King promised\nhim a large sum of money if he did so. Little Thumbling brought news\nthat very evening, and this first journey having made him known, he\ngot whatever he chose to ask; for the King paid most liberally for\ntaking his orders to the army, and numberless ladies gave him anything\nhe chose for news of their lovers, and they were his best customers.\nHe occasionally met with some wives who entrusted him with letters\nfor their husbands, but they paid him so poorly, and the amount was\naltogether so trifling, that he did not condescend to put down amongst\nhis receipts what he got for that service. After he had been a courier\nfor some time, and saved a great deal of money, he returned to his\nfather, where it is impossible to imagine the joy of his family at\nseeing him again. He made them all comfortable. He bought newly-made\noffices for his father and his brothers, and by these means established\nthem all, making his own way at Court at the same time.\n\n    Often is the handsome boy\n    Made, alone, his father's joy;\n    While the tiny, timid child\n    Is neglected or reviled.\n    Notwithstanding, sometimes he\n    Lives, of all, the prop to be.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COUNTESS DE MURAT.\n\n\n\n\nPERFECT LOVE.\n\n\nIn one of those agreeable countries subject to the Empire of the\nFairies, reigned the redoubtable Danamo. She was learned in her art,\ncruel in her deeds, and proud of the honour of being descended from\nthe celebrated Calypso, whose charms had the glory and the power, by\ndetaining the famous Ulysses, to triumph over the prudence of the\nconquerors of Troy.\n\nShe was tall, fierce-looking, and her haughty spirit had with much\ndifficulty been subjected to the rigid laws of Hymen. Love had never\nbeen able to reach her heart, but the idea of uniting a flourishing\nkingdom to that of which she was Queen, and another which she had\nusurped, had induced her to marry an old monarch, who was one of her\nneighbours.\n\nHe died a few years after his marriage, and left the Queen with one\ndaughter, named Azire. She was exceedingly ugly, but did not appear so\nin the eyes of Danamo, who thought her charming, perhaps because she\nwas the very image of herself. She was heiress also to three kingdoms,\na circumstance which softened down many defects, and her hand was\nsought in marriage by all the most powerful princes of the adjacent\nprovinces. Their eagerness, joined to the blind affection of Danamo,\nrendered her vanity insupportable. She was ardently besought--she must,\ntherefore, be worthy of such solicitation. It was thus that the Fairy\nand the Princess reasoned in their own minds, and enjoyed the pleasure\nof deceiving themselves. Meanwhile, Danamo thought only of rendering\nthe happiness of the Princess as perfect as she considered was her due,\nand, with this object, brought up in her palace a young Prince, the son\nof her brother.\n\nHis name was Parcin Parcinet. He had a noble bearing, a graceful\nfigure, a profusion of beautiful fair hair. Love might have been\njealous of his power, for that deity had never, amongst his\ngolden-pointed arrows, any so certain to triumph irresistibly over\nhearts as the fine eyes of Parcin Parcinet. He could do everything well\nthat he chose to undertake--danced and sang to perfection, and bore\noff all the prizes in the tournament whenever he took the trouble to\ncontend for them.\n\nThis young Prince was the delight of the Court, and Danamo, who had her\nmotives for it, made no objection to the homage and admiration which he\nreceived.\n\nThe King who was the father of Parcinet was the Fairy's brother. She\ndeclared war against him without even seeking for a reason. The King\nfought valiantly, at the head of his troops; but what could any army\neffect against the power of so skilful a Fairy as Danamo? She allowed\nthe victory to remain in doubt only long enough for her unfortunate\nbrother to fall in the combat. As soon as he was dead, she dispersed\nall her enemies with one stroke of her wand, and made herself mistress\nof the kingdom.\n\nParcin Parcinet was at that time still in his cradle. They brought him\nto Danamo. It would have been in vain to attempt hiding him from a\nFairy. He already displayed those seductive graces which win the heart.\nDanamo caressed him, and a few days afterwards took him with her to her\nown dominions.\n\nThe Prince had attained the age of eighteen, when the Fairy, desirous\nat length of executing the designs which she had so many years\ncontemplated, resolved to marry Parcin Parcinet to the Princess, her\ndaughter. She never for a moment doubted the infinite delight which\nthat young Prince, born to a throne, and condemned by misfortune to\nremain a subject, would feel at becoming in one day the sovereign of\nthree kingdoms. She sent for the Princess, and revealed to her the\nchoice she had made of a husband for her. The Princess listened to\nthis disclosure with an emotion which caused the Fairy to believe that\nthis resolution in favour of Parcin Parcinet was not agreeable to\nher daughter. \"I see clearly,\" she said to her, as she perceived her\nagitation increasing, \"that thou hast much more ambition, and wouldst\nunite with thine own empire that of one of those kings who have so\noften proposed for thee; but where is the King whom Parcin Parcinet\ncannot conquer? In courage he surpasses them all. The subjects of so\nperfect a prince might one day rebel in his favour. In giving thee to\nhim I secure to thee the possession of his kingdom. As to his person,\nit is unnecessary to speak--thou knowest that the proudest beauties\nhave not been able to resist his charms.\" The Princess, suddenly\nflinging herself at the feet of the Fairy, interrupted her discourse,\nand confessed to her that her heart had not been able to defy the young\nvictor, famous for so many conquests. \"But,\" added she, blushing, \"I\nhave given a thousand proofs of my affection to the insensible Parcin\nParcinet, and he has received them with a coldness which distracts me.\"\n\"'Tis because he dares not raise his thoughts so high as thee,\" replied\nthe haughty Fairy. \"He fears, no doubt, to offend me, and I appreciate\nhis respect.\"\n\nThis flattering idea was too agreeable to the inclination and the\nvanity of the Princess for her not to be persuaded of its truth. The\nFairy ended by sending for Parcin Parcinet. He came, and found her in\na magnificent cabinet, where she awaited him with the Princess, her\ndaughter. \"Call all thy courage to thy assistance,\" said she to him as\nsoon as he appeared--\"not to support affliction, but to prevent being\novercome by thy good fortune. Thou art called to a throne, Parcin\nParcinet, and to crown thy happiness, thou wilt mount that throne by\nespousing my daughter.\" \"I, Madam!\" exclaimed the young Prince, with an\nastonishment in which it was easy to perceive that joy had no share, \"I\nespouse the Princess,\" continued he, retreating a few paces. \"Hah! what\ndeity is meddling with my fate? Why does he not leave the care of it to\nthe only one from whom I implore assistance?\"\n\nThese words were uttered by the Prince with a vehemence in which\nhis heart took too much part to allow it to be controlled by his\nprudence. The Fairy imagined that the unhoped-for happiness had driven\nParcin Parcinet out of his wits; but the Princess loved him, and love\nsometimes renders lovers more keen sighted than even wisdom. \"From\nwhat deity, Parcin Parcinet,\" said she to him with emotion, \"do you\nimplore assistance so fondly? I feel too deeply that I have no share\nin the prayers you address to him.\" The young Prince, who had had\ntime to recover from his first surprise, and who was conscious of the\nimprudence he had committed, summoned his brain to the assistance\nof his heart. He answered the Princess with more gallantry than she\nhad hoped for, and thanked the Fairy with an air of dignity that\nsufficiently proved him to be worthy not only of the empire that was\noffered him, but of that of the whole world.\n\nDanamo and her proud daughter were satisfied with his expressions,\nand they settled everything before they left the apartment, the Fairy\ndeferring the wedding-day a short time, only to give opportunity to all\nher Court to prepare for this grand solemnity.\n\nThe news of the marriage of Parcin Parcinet and Azire was spread\nthroughout the Palace the moment they had quitted the Queen's cabinet.\nCrowds came to congratulate the Prince. However unamiable the Princess,\nit was to high fortune she conducted him. Parcin Parcinet received\nall these honours with an air of indifference, which surprised his\nnew subjects the more, for that they detected beneath it extreme\naffliction and anxiety. He was compelled, however, to endure for the\nrest of the day the eager homage of the whole Court, and the ceaseless\ndemonstrations of affection lavished upon him by Azire.\n\nWhat a situation for a young Prince, a prey to the keenest anguish.\nNight seemed to him to have delayed its return a thousand times longer\nthan usual. The impatient Parcin Parcinet prayed for its arrival.\nIt came at length. He quitted precipitately the place in which he\nhad suffered so much. He retired to his own apartments, and, having\ndismissed his attendants, opened a door which led into the Palace\nGardens, and hurried through them, followed only by a young slave.\n\nA beautiful, but not very extensive, river ran at the end of the\ngardens, and separated from the magnificent Palace of the Fairy a\nlittle Ch\u00e2teau, flanked by four towers, and surrounded by a tolerably\ndeep moat, which was filled by the river aforesaid. It was to this\nfatal spot that the vows and sighs of Parcin Parcinet were incessantly\nwafted.\n\nWhat a miracle was confined in it! Danamo had the treasure carefully\nguarded within it. It was a young Princess, the daughter of her\nsister, who, dying, had confided her to the charge of the Fairy. Her\nbeauty, worthy the admiration of the universe, appeared too dangerous\nto Danamo to allow her to be seen by the side of Azire. Permission was\noccasionally accorded to the charming Irolite (so was she named), to\ncome to the Palace, to visit the Fairy and the Princess her daughter,\nbut she had never been allowed to appear in public. Her dawning\nbeauties were unknown to the world, but there was one who was not\nignorant of them. They had met the eyes of Parcin Parcinet one day at\nthe apartments of the Princess Azire, and he had adored Irolite from\nthe moment that he had seen her. Their near relationship afforded no\nprivilege to that young Prince; from the time Irolite ceased to be an\ninfant the pitiless Danamo suffered no one to behold her.\n\nNevertheless Parcin Parcinet burned with a flame as ardent as such\ncharms as Irolite's could not fail to kindle. She was just fourteen.\nHer beauty was perfect. Her hair was of a charming colour. Without\nbeing decidedly dark or fair, her complexion had all the freshness\nof spring. Her mouth was lovely, her teeth admirable, her smile\nfascinating. She had large hazel eyes, sparkling and tender, and her\nglances appeared to say a thousand things which her young heart was\nignorant of.\n\nShe had been brought up in complete solitude. Near as was the Palace of\nthe Fairy to the Ch\u00e2teau in which she dwelt, she saw no more persons\nthan she might have seen in the midst of deserts. Danamo's orders to\nthis effect were strictly followed. The lovely Irolite passed her days\namongst the women appointed to attend her. They were few in number,\nbut little as were the advantages to be gained in so solitary and\ncircumscribed a Court, Fame, which feared not Danamo, published such\nwonders of this young Princess, that ladies of the highest rank were\neager to share the seclusion of the youthful Irolite. Her appearance\nconfirmed all that Fame had reported. They were always finding some new\ncharm to admire in her.\n\nA governess of great intelligence and prudence, formerly attached to\nthe Princess who was the mother of Irolite, had been allowed to remain\nwith her, and frequently bewailed the rigorous conduct of Danamo\ntowards her young mistress. Her name was Mana. Her desire to restore\nthe Princess to the liberty she was entitled to enjoy, and the position\nshe was born to occupy, had induced her to favour the love of Parcin\nParcinet. It was now three years since he had contrived to introduce\nhimself one evening into the Ch\u00e2teau in the dress of a slave. He found\nIrolite in the garden, and declared his passion for her. She was then\nbut a charming child. She loved Parcin Parcinet as if he had been her\nbrother, and could not then comprehend the existence of any warmer\nattachment. Mana, who was rarely absent from the side of Irolite,\nsurprised the young Prince in the garden; he avowed to her his love\nfor the Princess, and the determination he had formed to perish, or\nto restore her one day to liberty, and then to seek, by a personal\nappeal to his former subjects, a glorious means of revenging himself on\nDanamo, and of placing Irolite upon the throne.\n\nThe noble qualities which were daily developed in the nature of\nParcin Parcinet, might have rendered probable his success in still\nmore difficult undertakings, and it was also the only hope of rescue\nwhich offered itself to Irolite. Mana allowed him to visit the Ch\u00e2teau\noccasionally after nightfall. He saw Irolite only in her presence, but\nhe spoke to her of his love, and never ceased endeavouring, by tender\nwords and devoted attentions, to inspire her with a passion as ardent\nas his own. For three years Parcin Parcinet had been occupied solely\nwith this passion. Nearly every night he visited the Ch\u00e2teau of his\nPrincess, and all his days he passed in thinking of her. We left him on\nhis road through Danamo's gardens, followed by a slave, and absorbed in\nthe despair to which the determination of the Fairy had reduced him. He\nreached the river's bank: a little gilded boat, moored to the shore,\nin which Azire sometimes enjoyed an excursion on the water, enabled\nthe enamoured Prince to cross the stream. The slave rowed him over,\nand as soon as Parcin Parcinet had ascended the silken ladder which\nwas thrown to him from a little terrace that extended along the entire\nfront of the Ch\u00e2teau, the faithful servant rowed the boat back to its\nmooring-place, and remained with it there until a signal was made to\nhim by his master. This was the waving, for a few minutes, of a lighted\nflambeau on the terrace.\n\nThis evening the Prince took his usual route, the silken ladder was\nthrown to him, and he reached, without any obstacle, the apartment of\nthe youthful Irolite. He found her stretched on a couch, and bathed\nin tears. How beautiful did she appear to him in her affliction. Her\ncharms had never before affected the young Prince so deeply.\n\n\"What is the matter, my Princess?\" asked he, flinging himself on his\nknees before the couch on which she lay. \"What can have caused these\nprecious tears to flow? Alas!\" he continued, sighing, \"have I still\nmore misfortunes to learn here?\" The young lovers mingled their tears\nand sighs, and were forced to give full vent to their sorrow before\nthey could find words to declare its cause. At length the young Prince\nentreated Irolite to tell him what new severity the Fairy had treated\nher with. \"She would compel you to marry Azire,\" replied the beautiful\nIrolite, blushing; \"which of all her cruelties could cause me so much\nagony?\" \"Ah! my dear Princess,\" exclaimed the Prince, \"you fear I\nshall marry Azire! My lot is a thousand times more happy than I could\nhave imagined it!\" \"Can you exult in your destiny,\" sadly rejoined\nthe Princess, \"when it threatens to separate us? I cannot express to\nyou the tortures that I suffer from this fear! Ah, Parcin Parcinet,\nyou were right! The love I bear to you is far different from that I\nshould feel for a brother!\" The enamoured Prince blessed Fortune for\nher severities; never before had the young heart of Irolite appeared\nto him truly touched by love, and now he could no longer doubt having\ninspired her with a passion as tender as his own. This unlooked-for\nhappiness renewed all his hopes. \"No!\" he exclaimed with rapture; \"I no\nlonger despair of overcoming our difficulties, since I am convinced of\nyour affection. Let us fly, my Princess. Let us escape from the fury of\nDanamo and her hateful daughter. Let us seek a home more favourable to\nthe indulgence of that love, in which alone consists our happiness!\"\n\"How!\" rejoined the young Princess with astonishment. \"Depart with you!\nAnd what would all the kingdom say of my flight?\" \"Away with such idle\nfears, beautiful Irolite,\" interrupted the impatient Parcin Parcinet,\n\"everything urges us to quit this spot. Let us hasten--\" \"But whither?\"\nasked the prudent Mana, who had been present during the entire\ninterview, and who, less pre-occupied than these young lovers, foresaw\nall the difficulties in the way of their flight. \"I have plans which I\nwill lay before you,\" answered Parcin Parcinet; \"but how did you become\nso soon acquainted here with the news of the Fairy's Court?\" \"One of\nmy relatives,\" replied Mana, \"wrote to me the instant that the rumour\nwas circulated through the Palace, and I thought it my duty to inform\nthe Princess.\" \"What have I not suffered since that moment!\" said the\nlovely Irolite. \"No, Parcin Parcinet, I cannot live without you!\" The\nyoung Prince, in a transport of love, and enchanted by these words,\nimprinted on the beautiful hand of Irolite a passionate and tender\nkiss, which had all the charms of a first and precious favour. The day\nbegan to dawn, and warned Parcinet, too soon, that it was time for\nhim to retire. He promised the Princess he would return the following\nnight to reveal his plans for their escape. He found his faithful\nslave in waiting with the boat, and returned to his apartments. He was\nenraptured with the delight of being beloved by the fair Irolite, and\nagitated by the obstacles which he clearly perceived would have to be\nsurmounted, sleep could neither calm his anxiety, nor make him for one\nmoment forget his happiness.\n\nThe morning sun had scarcely lighted his chamber, when a dwarf\npresented him with a magnificent scarf from the Princess Azire, who in\na note, more tender than Parcin Parcinet would have desired, entreated\nhim to wear it constantly from that moment. He returned an answer which\nit embarrassed him much to compose; but Irolite was to be rescued,\nand what constraint would he not have himself endured to restore her\nto liberty. He had no sooner dismissed the dwarf than a giant arrived\nto present him, from Danamo, with a sabre of extraordinary beauty.\nThe hilt was formed by a single stone, more brilliant than a diamond,\nand which emitted so dazzling a lustre that it would light the way by\nnight. Upon its blade were engraven these words--\n\n \"For the hand of a conqueror.\"\n\nParcin Parcinet was pleased with this present. He went to thank the\nFairy for it, and entered her apartment, wearing the marvellous sabre\nshe had sent him, and the beautiful scarf he had received from Azire.\nThe assurance of Irolite's affection for him had relieved him from all\nanxiety, and filled his bosom with that gentle and perfect happiness\nwhich is born of mutual love. An air of joy was apparent in all his\nactions. Azire attributed it to the effect of her own charms, and the\nFairy to satisfied ambition. The day passed in entertainments which\ncould not diminish the insupportable length of it to Parcin Parcinet.\nIn the evening they walked in the Palace gardens, and were rowed on\nthat very river with which the Prince was so well acquainted. His heart\nbeat quickly as he stepped into that little boat. What a difference\nbetween the pleasure to which it was accustomed to bear him, and the\ndreary dulness of his present position. Parcin Parcinet could not help\ncasting frequent glances towards the dwelling of the charming Irolite.\nShe did not make her appearance upon the terrace of the Ch\u00e2teau,\nfor there was an express order that she was not to be permitted to\nleave her chamber, whenever the Fairy or Azire was on the water. The\nlatter, who narrowly watched all the Prince's actions, observed that\nhe often looked in that direction. \"What are you gazing at, Prince?\"\nsaid she. \"Amidst all the honours that surround you, is the prison of\nIrolite deserving so much attention?\" \"Yes, Madam,\" replied the Prince,\nvery imprudently, \"I feel for those who have not drawn on themselves\nby their own misconduct the misfortunes they endure.\" \"You are too\ncompassionate,\" replied Azire, contemptuously; \"but to relieve your\nanxiety,\" added she, lowering her voice, \"I can inform you that Irolite\nwill not long continue a prisoner.\" \"And what is to become of her,\nthen?\" hastily inquired the young Prince. \"The Queen will marry her\nin a few days to Prince Ormond,\" answered Azire. \"He is, as you know,\na kinsman of ours; and, agreeable to the Queen's intentions, the day\nafter the nuptials he will conduct Irolite to one of his fortresses,\nfrom whence she will never return to the Court.\" \"How!\" exclaimed\nParcin Parcinet, with extraordinary emotion; \"will the Queen bestow\nthat beautiful Princess on so frightful a Prince, and whose vices\nexceed even his ugliness? What cruelty!\"--The latter word escaped his\nlips despite himself: but he could no longer be false to his courage\nand his heart. \"Methinks it is not for you, Parcin Parcinet,\" retorted\nAzire, haughtily, \"to complain of the cruelties of Danamo.\"\n\nThis conversation would, no doubt, have been carried too far for the\nyoung Prince, whose safety lay in dissimulation; when, fortunately for\nParcin Parcinet, some of the ladies in waiting on Azire approached\nher, and a moment afterwards the Fairy having appeared on the bank\nof the river, Azire signified her desire to rejoin her. On landing,\nParcin Parcinet pretended indisposition in order to obtain at least the\nliberty of lamenting alone his new misfortunes.\n\nThe Fairy, and more particularly Azire, testified great anxiety\nrespecting his illness. He returned to his own apartments. There he\nindulged in a thousand complaints against destiny for the ills it\nthreatened to inflict on the charming Irolite, abandoned himself to\nall his grief and all his passion, and beginning at length to seek\nconsolation for sufferings so agonizing to a faithful lover, wrote\na letter full of the most moving phrases that his affection could\ndictate, to one of his Aunts, who was a Fairy as well as Danamo, but\nwho found as much pleasure in befriending the unfortunate as Danamo did\nin making them miserable. Her name was Favourable. The Prince explained\nto her the cruel situation to which love and fate had reduced him,\nand not being able to absent himself from the Court of Danamo without\nbetraying the design he had formed, he sent his faithful slave with the\nletter to Favourable. When every one had retired to rest, he left his\napartment as usual, crossed the gardens alone, and stepping into the\nlittle boat, took up one of the oars without knowing whether or not he\ncould manage to use it: but what cannot love teach his votaries? He\ncan instruct them in much more difficult matters. He enabled Parcin\nParcinet to row with as much skill and rapidity as the most expert\nwaterman. He entered the Ch\u00e2teau, and was much surprised to find no\none but the prudent Mana, weeping bitterly in the Princess's chamber.\n\"What afflicts you, Mana?\" asked the Prince, eagerly; \"and where is my\ndear Irolite?\" \"Alas! my Lord,\" replied Mana, \"she is no longer here.\nA troop of the Queen's Guards, and some women, in whom she apparently\nconfides, removed the Princess from the Castle about three or four\nhours ago.\"\n\nParcin Parcinet heard not the last of these sad words. He had sunk\ninsensible on the ground the instant he learned the departure of the\nPrincess. Mana, with great difficulty, restored him to consciousness.\nHe recovered from his swoon only to give way to a sudden paroxysm\nof fury. He drew a small dagger from his girdle, and had pierced his\nheart, if the prudent Mana, dragging back his arm as best she could,\nand falling at the same time on her knees, had not exclaimed--\"How,\nmy Lord! would you abandon Irolite? Live to save her from the wrath\nof Danamo. Alas! without you, how will she find protection from the\nFairy's cruelty?\" These words suspended for a moment the despair of\nthe wretched Prince. \"Alas!\" replied he, shedding tears, which all\nhis courage could not restrain, \"whither have they borne my Princess?\nYes, Mana! I will live to enjoy at least the sad satisfaction of dying\nin her defence, and in avenging her on her enemies!\" After these\nwords, Mana conjured him to quit the fatal building to avoid fresh\nmisfortunes. \"Hasten, Prince,\" said she to him; \"how know we that the\nFairy has not here some spy ready to acquaint her with everything that\npasses within these walls? Be careful of a life so dear to the Princess\nwhom you adore. I will let you know all that I can contrive to learn\nrespecting her.\"\n\nThe Prince departed after this promise, and regained his chamber,\noppressed with all the grief which so tender and so luckless a passion\ncould inspire. He passed the night on a couch on which he had thrown\nhimself on entering the room. Daybreak surprised him there: and the\nmorning was advanced some hours, when he heard a noise at his chamber\ndoor. He ran to it with the eager impatience which we feel when we\nawait tidings in which the heart is deeply interested. He found\nhis people conducting to him, a man who desired to speak with him\ninstantly. He recognised the messenger as one of Mana's relations, who\nplaced in the hand of Parcin Parcinet a letter which he took with him\ninto his cabinet to read, in order to conceal the emotion its receipt\nexcited in him. He opened it hastily, having observed it was in Mana's\nhandwriting, and found these words:--\n\n\"Mana, to the greatest Prince in the world. Be comforted, my Lord;\nour Princess is in safety, if such an expression be allowable, so\nlong as she is subjected to the power of her enemy. She requested\nDanamo to permit my attendance on her, and the Fairy consented that I\nshould rejoin her. She is confined in the Palace. Yesterday evening\nthe Queen caused her to be brought into her cabinet, ordered her to\nlook upon Prince Ormond as one who would be in a few days her husband,\nand presented to her that Prince so unworthy of being your rival. The\nPrincess was so distressed that she could answer the Queen only by\ntears. They have not yet ceased to flow. It is for you, my Lord, to\nfind, if possible, some means of escape from the impending calamity.\"\n\nAt the foot of the letter were the following lines, written with a\ntrembling hand, and some of the words being nearly effaced. \"How I pity\nyou, my dear Prince; your sufferings are more terrible to me than my\nown. I spare your feelings the recital of what I have endured since\nyesterday. Why was I born to disturb your peace? Alas! had you never\nknown me, perhaps you might have been happy.\"\n\nWhat mingled emotions of joy and grief agitated the heart of the young\nPrince in reading this postscript. What kisses did he not imprint\non this precious token of the love of the divine Irolite! He was so\nexcited that it was with the greatest difficulty in the world that he\nsucceeded in writing a coherent answer. He thanked the prudent Mana;\nhe informed the Princess of the assistance he expected from the Fairy\nFavourable; and what did he not say to her of his grief or his love!\nHe then took the letter to Mana's kinsman, and presented him with a\nclasp set with jewels of inestimable beauty and value, as an earnest of\nthe reward he had deserved, for the pleasure he had given him. Mana's\nkinsman had scarcely departed, when the Queen and Princess Azire sent\nto enquire how the Prince had passed the night. It was easily seen by\nhis countenance that he was not well. He was entreated to return to his\nbed, and as he felt he should be under less restraint there than in the\ncompany of the Fairy, he consented to do so.\n\nAfter dinner, the Queen came to see him, and spoke to him of the\nmarriage of Irolite and Prince Ormond as of a matter she had decided\nupon. Parcin Parcinet, who had at length made up his mind to control\nhimself, so as not to awaken suspicions which might frustrate his\ndesigns, pretended to approve of the Fairy's intentions, and only\nrequested her to await his perfect recovery, as it was his wish to be\npresent at the festivities which would take place on the occasion of\nthese grand nuptials. The Fairy and Azire, who were in despair about\nhis illness, promised him everything he desired; and Parcin Parcinet\nthus retarded, for some days at least, the threatened marriage of\nIrolite. His conversation with Azire, when on the water with her, had\nhastened the approach of that misfortune to the beautiful Princess he\nloved so tenderly. Azire had related to the Queen the words of Parcin\nParcinet, and the pity he had expressed for Irolite. The Queen, who\nnever paused in the execution of what she had determined on, sent that\nvery evening for Irolite, and decided, in conjunction with Azire, that\nthe marriage of the former should immediately take place, and that her\ndeparture should be expedited before Parcin Parcinet was established in\nthe higher authority his match with Azire would invest him with. Before\nten days had expired, however, the Prince's faithful slave returned\nfrom his mission. With what delight did the Prince discover in the\nletter Favourable had written to him, the proofs of her compassion and\nof her friendship for him and for Irolite. She sent him a ring made of\nfour separate metals, gold, silver, brass, and iron. This ring had the\npower to save him four times from the persecution of the cruel Danamo,\nand Favourable assured the Prince that the Fairy would not order him\nto be pursued more often than that ring was able to protect him. These\ngood tidings restored the Prince to health, and he sent with all\nspeed for Mana's kinsman. He entrusted him with a letter for Irolite,\ninforming her of the success they might hope for. There was no time to\nbe lost. The Queen had determined the wedding of Irolite should take\nplace in three days. That evening there was to be a ball given by the\nPrincess Azire. Irolite was to be present. Parcin Parcinet could not\nendure the idea of appearing \"_en n\u00e9glig\u00e9_,\" as his recent illness\nmight have permitted him, he dressed himself in the most magnificent\nstyle, and looked more brilliant than the sun. He dared not at first\nspeak to the fair Irolite; but what did not their eyes discourse when\noccasionally, they ventured to glance at each other. Irolite was in the\nmost beautiful costume in the world. The Fairy had presented her with\nsome marvellous jewels, and as she had only four days to remain in the\npalace, Danamo had resolved, during that short period, to treat her\nwith all due honour. Her beauty, which had hitherto been unadorned, in\nsuch splendour, appeared wonderful to the whole court, and, above all,\nto the enamoured Parcin Parcinet. He even imagined he could read in\nsome joyous flashes of her bright eyes an acknowledgment that she had\nreceived his letter. Prince Ormond addressed Irolite frequently; but\nhe was so ill-looking, notwithstanding the gold and jewels with which\nhe was burthened, that he was not a rival worth the jealousy of the\nyoung Prince. The ball was nearly over, when Parcin Parcinet, carried\naway by his love, wished with intense ardour for an opportunity to\nspeak for one moment to his Princess. \"Cruel Queen, and thou, also,\nhateful Azire!\" he mentally exclaimed; \"will ye still longer deprive\nme of the delightful pleasure of repeating a thousand times to the\nbeautiful Irolite that I adore her! Jealous witnesses of my happiness,\nwhy do ye not quit this spot? Love can only triumph in your absence.\"\nScarcely had Parcin Parcinet formed this wish, than the Fairy, feeling\nrather faint, called to Azire, and passed with her into an adjoining\napartment, followed by Ormond. Parcin Parcinet had on his finger the\nring which the fairy Favourable had sent him, and which had the power\nto rescue him four times from the persecutions of Danamo. He should\nhave reserved such certain help for the most pressing necessity; but\nwhen did violent love obey the dictates of prudence?\n\nThe young Prince was convinced by the sudden departure of the Fairy and\nAzire, that the ring had begun to favour his love. He flew to the fair\nIrolite. He spoke to her of his affection in terms more ardent than\neloquent. He felt that he had perhaps invoked the spell of Favourable\ntoo thoughtlessly; but could he regret an imprudence which obtained\nfor him the sweet gratification of speaking to his dear Irolite?\nThey agreed as to the place and hour at which, the next day, they\nwould meet, to fly from their painful bondage. The Fairy and Azire,\nafter some time, returned to the ball-room. Parcin Parcinet separated\nwith regret from Irolite. He looked at the fatal ring, and perceived\nthat the iron had mixed with the other metals, and was no longer\ndistinguishable, he therefore saw too clearly that he had only three\nmore wishes to make. He resolved to render them more truly serviceable\nto the Princess than the first had been. He confided the secret of his\nflight to no one but his faithful slave, and passed the rest of the\nnight in making all the necessary preparations. The next morning he\ncalmly presented himself to the Queen, and appeared even in better\nspirits than usual. He jested with Prince Ormond on his marriage, and\nconducted himself in such a manner as to lull all suspicions, had any\nexisted as to his intentions. Two hours after midnight he repaired to\nthe Fairy's Park; he found there his faithful slave, who, in obedience\nto his master's orders, had brought thither four of his horses. The\nPrince was not kept long waiting. The lovely Irolite appeared, walking\nwith faltering steps, and leaning upon Mana. The young Princess felt\nsome pain in taking this course. It had needed all the cruelties of\nDanamo, and all the bad qualities of Ormond, to induce her to do so.\nLove alone had not sufficed to persuade her.\n\nIt was autumn. The night was beautiful, and the moon, with a host of\nbrilliant stars, illuminated the sky, shedding around a more charming\nlight than that of day. The Prince eagerly advanced to meet his\nbeloved, there was no time for long speeches, Parcin Parcinet tenderly\nkissed the hand of Irolite and assisted her to mount her horse.\nFortunately she rode admirably. It was one of the amusements she had\ntaken pleasure in during her captivity. She had frequently ridden with\nher attendants in a little wood close to the Ch\u00e2teau she resided in,\nand of which the Fairy allowed her the range. Parcin Parcinet, after\nthe interchange of a few words with the Princess, mounted his own\nhorse. The other two were for Mana and the faithful slave. The Prince\nthen drawing the brilliant sabre he had received from the Fairy, swore\non it to adore the beautiful Irolite as long as he should live, and to\ndie, if it were necessary, in defending her from her enemies. They then\nset out, and it seemed as if the Zephyrs were in league with them, or\nthat they mistook Irolite for Flora, for they accompanied them in their\nflight.\n\nMorning disclosed to Danamo the unexpected event. The ladies in\nattendance on Irolite were surprised that she slept so much later than\nusual; but, in obedience to the orders the prudent Mana had given them\nover-night, they did not venture to enter the Princess's apartment\nwithout being summoned by her. Mana slept in Irolite's chamber, and\nthey had quitted it by a small door that opened into a court-yard of\nthe Palace that was very little frequented. This door was in Irolite's\ncabinet. It had been fastened up, but, with a little trouble, in two or\nthree evenings, they had found means to open it. The Queen at length\nsent orders for Irolite to come to her. The Fairy's commands were not\nto be disobeyed by any one. They accordingly knocked at the chamber\ndoor of the Princess. They received no answer. Prince Ormond arrived.\nHe came to conduct Irolite to the Queen, and was much surprised to find\nthem knocking loudly at the door. He caused it to be broken open. They\nentered, and finding the little door of the cabinet had been forced,\nno longer doubted that the Princess had fled the Palace. They bore\nthese tidings to the Queen, who trembled with rage at hearing them. She\nordered a search to be made everywhere for Irolite, but in vain did\nthey endeavour to obtain a clue to her evasion, no one knew anything\nabout it. Prince Ormond himself set out in pursuit of Irolite. The\nFairy's Guards were despatched in all haste, and in every direction it\nwas thought possible she might have taken. It was observed, however, by\nAzire, that amidst this general agitation, Parcin Parcinet had not made\nhis appearance. She sent an urgent message to him, and jealousy opening\nher eyes, she felt certain that the Prince had carried off Irolite,\nalthough she had not until that moment suspected he was in love with\nher. The Fairy could not believe it; but she hastened to consult her\nbooks, and discovered that Azire's suspicion was but too well founded.\n\nIn the meanwhile that Princess having learned that Parcin Parcinet was\nnot in his apartments, and could not be found anywhere in the Palace,\nsent some one to the Ch\u00e2teau in which Irolite had so long resided, to\nsee if they could find any evidence that would convict or acquit the\nPrince. The prudent Mana had taken care to leave nothing in it that\ncould betray the understanding that had existed between Irolite and\nParcin Parcinet; but they found near the seat on which the Prince had\nlain so long insensible, the scarf Azire had given to him. It had been\nunfastened during his swoon, and the Prince and Mana, absorbed in their\ngrief, had neither of them subsequently observed it. What were the\nfeelings of the haughty Azire at the sight of this scarf? Her love and\nher pride were equally wounded. She was exasperated beyond measure.\nShe flung into the Fairy's prisons all who had been in the service of\nIrolite or of the Prince. Parcin Parcinet's ingratitude to the Queen\nalso goaded her naturally furious temper into madness, and she would\nhave willingly parted with one of her kingdoms to be revenged on the\ntwo lovers.\n\n  [Illustration: Perfect Love.--P. 63.]\n\nMeanwhile the fugitives were hotly pursued: Ormond and his troop found\neverywhere fresh horses in readiness for them by the Fairy's orders.\nThose of Parcin Parcinet were fatigued, and their speed no longer\nanswered to the impatience of their master. As they issued from a\nforest, Ormond appeared in sight. The first impulse of the young Prince\nwas to attack his unworthy rival. He was spurring towards him with his\nhand on the hilt of his sword, when Irolite exclaimed, \"Prince! Rush\nnot into useless danger! Obey the orders of Favourable!\" These words\ncalmed the anger of Parcin Parcinet, and in obedience to his Princess,\nand to the Fairy, he wished that the beautiful Irolite was safe from\nthe persecution of the cruel Queen. He had scarcely formed the wish,\nwhen the earth opened between him and Ormond, and presented to his\nsight a little misshapen man in a very magnificent dress, who made a\nsign to him to follow him. The descent was easy on his side, he rode\ndown it accompanied by the fair Irolite. Mana and the faithful slave\nfollowed them, and the earth reclosed above them. Ormond, astonished at\nso extraordinary an event, returned with all speed to inform Danamo.\n\nMeanwhile our young lovers followed the little man down a very dark\nroad, at the end of which they found a vast Palace, lighted only by a\ngreat quantity of lamps and flambeaux. They were desired to dismount,\nand entered a Hall of prodigious magnitude. The roof was supported by\ncolumns of shining earth covered with golden ornaments. The walls were\nof the same material. A little man all covered with jewels was seated\nat the end of the Hall on a golden throne surrounded by a great number\nof persons as misshapen as the one who had conducted the Prince to that\nspot. As soon as the latter appeared leading the charming Irolite, the\nlittle man rose from his throne and said, \"Approach, Prince. The great\nFairy Favourable, who has long been a friend of mine, has requested\nme to save you from the cruelties of Danamo. I am the King of the\nGnomes. You and the fair Princess who accompanies you are welcome\nto my Palace.\" Parcin Parcinet thanked him for the succour he had\nafforded them. The King and all his subjects were enchanted with the\nbeauty of Irolite. They looked upon her as a star that had descended\nto illuminate their abode. A magnificent banquet was served up to the\nPrince and Princess. The King of the Gnomes did the honours. Music\nof a very melodious, though somewhat barbaric, character, formed the\nentertainment of the evening. They sang the charms of Irolite, and the\nfollowing verses were frequently repeated:--\n\n    What lovely star hath left its sphere\n    This subterranean realm to cheer?\n    Beware! for in its dazzling light\n    Is more than danger to the sight.\n    The while its lustre we admire\n    It sets the gazer's heart on fire.\n\nAfter the concert the Prince and Princess were each conducted to\nmagnificent apartments. Mana and the faithful slave attended on them.\nThe next morning they were shown all over the King's Palace. He was\nmaster of all the treasures contained in the bosom of the earth. It\nwas impossible to add to his riches. They presented a confused mass\nof beautiful things; but art was wanting everywhere. The Prince and\nPrincess remained for a week in this subterranean region. Such was\nthe order of Favourable to the King of the Gnomes. During this time\nentertainments were made for the Princess and her lover, which, though\nnot very tasteful, were exceedingly magnificent. The eve of their\ndeparture, the King, to commemorate their sojourn in his empire,\ncaused statues of them to be erected, one on each side of his throne.\nThey were of gold, and the pedestals of white marble. The following\ninscription, formed with diamonds, was upon the pedestal of the\nPrince's statue:--\n\n    \"We desire no longer to behold the sun,--\n            We have seen this Prince;\n    He is more beautiful and more brilliant.\"\n\nAnd on that of the Princess were these words, formed in a similar\nmanner:--\n\n        \"To the immortal glory\n        Of the Goddess of Beauty.\n        She descended to this spot\n    Under the form and name of Irolite.\"\n\nThe ninth day they presented the Prince with the most beautiful horses\nin the world. Their harness was of gold entirely covered with diamonds.\nHe quitted the gloomy abode of the Gnomes with his little troop, after\nhaving expressed his gratitude to the King. He found himself again on\nthe very spot where Ormond had confronted him. He looked at his ring,\nand perceived that only the silver and brazen portions of it were\ndiscernible. He resumed his journey with the charming Irolite, and made\nall speed to reach the abode of Favourable, where at length they might\nfeel themselves in safety, when all on a sudden, as they emerged from\na valley, they encountered a troop of Danamo's guards, who had not\ngiven up the pursuit. The soldiers prepared to rush upon them, when the\nPrince wished, and instantly a large piece of water appeared between\nthe party of Parcin Parcinet and that of the Fairy. A beautiful nymph,\nhalf naked, in a little boat made of interwoven rushes, was seen in\nthe middle of it. She approached the shore, and requested the Prince\nand Princess to enter the boat. Mana and the slave followed them. The\nhorses remained in the plain, and the little boat suddenly sinking,\nthe Fairy's Guards believed that the fugitives had perished in their\nattempt to escape. But at the same moment they found themselves in\na Palace, the walls of which were only great sheets of water, which\nincessantly falling with perfect regularity, formed halls, apartments,\ncabinets, and surrounded gardens, in which a thousand fountains of\nthe most extraordinary shapes marked out the lines of the parterres.\nOnly the Naiades, in whose empire they were, could inhabit this\nPalace, as beautiful as it was singular. To offer, therefore, a more\nsubstantial dwelling to the Prince and the fair Irolite, the Naiade\nwho was their conductor led them into some grottoes of shell-work,\nwhere coral, pearls, and all the treasures of the deep, were seen in\ndazzling profusion. The beds were of moss. An hundred dolphins guarded\nthe grotto of Irolite, and twenty whales that of Parcin Parcinet.\nThe Naiades admired the beauty of the Princess, and more than one\nTriton was jealous of the looks and attentions which were bestowed\non the young Prince. They served up in the grotto of the Princess a\nsuperb collation composed of all sorts of iced fruits. Twelve Syrens\nendeavoured with their sweet and charming songs to calm the anxiety of\nthe young Prince and the fair Irolite. The concert finished with these\nverses:--\n\n    Wherever with Love for our leader we stray,\n    To render us happy he knows the sweet way.\n    Rejoice, Perfect Lovers, who here, in his name\n    The floods may defy to extinguish your flame.\n\nIn the evening there was a banquet, at which nothing was served but\nfish, but of most extraordinary size and exquisite flavour. After\nthe banquet the Naiades danced a ballet in dresses of fish-scales of\nvarious colours, which had the most beautiful effect in the world. The\nhorns of Tritons, and other instruments unknown to mortals, performed\nthe music, which, though strange, was novel and very agreeable.\n\nParcin Parcinet and the beautiful Irolite remained four days in this\nempire. Such were the commands of Favourable. The fifth day the\nNaiades assembled in crowds to escort the Prince and Princess. The two\nlovers were placed in a little boat made of a single shell, and the\nNaiades, half out of the water, accompanied them as far as the border\nof a river, where Parcin Parcinet found his horses waiting for him,\nand recommenced his journey with the more haste, as he perceived, on\nexamining his ring, that the silver had disappeared, and that nothing\nremained but the brass; they were, however, but a short distance\nfrom the wished-for dwelling of the Fairy Favourable. They travelled\nunmolested for three more days; but on the fourth morning they saw\nweapons glitter in the distance in the rays of the rising sun, and as\nthose who bore them advanced, they recognised Prince Ormond and his\nband. Danamo had sent them back in pursuit with orders not to leave\nthem when seen again, nor to quit the spot where anything extraordinary\nmight occur to them, and, above all things, to endeavour to engage\nParcin Parcinet in single combat. Danamo had correctly imagined, from\nthe account of Ormond, that a Fairy protected the Prince and Princess;\nbut her science was so great, that she did not despair of conquering,\nby spells more potent than her antagonist could cast around them.\nOrmond, delighted at beholding again the Prince and Irolite, whom he\nhad sought with so much toil and anxiety, galloped, sword in hand, to\nencounter Parcin Parcinet, according to the commands of the Fairy.\nThe young Prince also drew his sabre with so fierce an air, that\nOrmond more than once felt inclined to waver in his course; but Parcin\nParcinet, observing Irolite bathed in tears, touched at the sight,\nformed his fourth wish, and instantly a great fire rising almost to the\nclouds, separated him from his enemy. This fire made Ormond and his\ntroop fall back, while the young Prince and Irolite, closely followed\nby the faithful slave and the prudent Mana, found themselves in a\nPalace, the first sight of which greatly alarmed the fair Irolite.\n\nIt was entirely of flame; but her alarm subsided as she perceived that\nshe felt no more heat than from the rays of the sun, and that this\nflame had only the brilliancy and blaze of fire, without its more\ninsupportable qualities. Crowds of young and beautiful personages,\nin dresses over which light flames appeared to wanton, presented\nthemselves to receive the Princess and her lover. One amongst them,\nwhom they imagined to be the Queen of those regions, by the respect\nthat was paid to her, accosted them, saying, \"Come, charming Princess,\nand you also, handsome Parcin Parcinet; you are in the Kingdom of\nSalamanders. I am its Queen, and it is with pleasure I have undertaken\nto conceal you for seven days in my Palace, according to the commands\nof the Fairy Favourable. I would only that your stay here might be\nof longer duration.\" After these words they were led into a large\napartment, all of flames, like the rest of the Palace, and in which a\nlight shone brighter than that of day. The Queen gave that evening a\ngrand supper, composed of every delicacy, and well served.\n\nAfter the feast they repaired to a terrace, to witness a display of\nfireworks of marvellous beauty and great singularity of design, which\nwere let off in a large court-yard of the Palace of Salamanders. Twelve\nCupids were seen upon as many columns of various coloured marbles. Six\nof them appeared to be drawing their bows, and the other six bore a\nlarge shield, on which these words were written in letters of fire:--\n\n    Irolite, that matchless fair!\n    Conqueror is everywhere.\n    In vain our flaming arrows fly;\n    Those that issue from her eye\n    Burn more fiercely, yet are found\n    Cherished in the hearts they wound.\n\nThe young Princess blushed at her own fame, and Parcin Parcinet was\nenchanted that the Salamanders considered her as beautiful as she\nappeared to him. Meanwhile, the Cupids shot their flaming arrows,\nwhich, crossing each other in the air, formed in a thousand places the\ninitials of the lovely name of Irolite, and rose up to the Heavens.\n\nThe seven days she remained in the Palace were passed in similar\npleasures. Parcin Parcinet remarked that all the Salamanders were witty\nand charmingly vivacious, very gallant and affectionate. The Queen\nherself appeared not to be exempt from the influence of the tender\npassion, but to be enamoured of a young Salamander of wonderful beauty.\n\nThe eighth day they quitted with regret a retreat so congenial to their\nfeelings. They found themselves in a lovely country. Parcin Parcinet\nlooked at his ring, and discovered engraved upon the metals, which were\nnow all four mixed together, the following words:--\n\n \"You have wished too soon.\"\n\nThese words sadly afflicted the Prince and Princess, but they were now\nso near the abode of the Fairy Favourable, that they were in hopes of\narriving there before evening. This reflection consoled them, and they\nproceeded, invoking Fortune and Love; but, alas! they are frequently\ntreacherous conductors. Parcin Parcinet was, in short, on the point of\nentering the dominions of the Fairy Favourable; but Ormond, obeying\nthe commands of Danamo, had not retired far from the spot where the\nfire had risen between him and his rival. He had encamped, with his\nparty, behind a wood, and his sentinels, who kept incessant watch,\nbrought him word that the Prince and Princess had re-appeared in the\nplain. He ordered his men to mount, and about sunset encountered the\nunfortunate Prince and the divine Irolite. Parcin Parcinet was not\ndismayed at the numbers that fell upon him altogether. He charged them\nwith a courage that daunted them. \"I fulfil my promise, beautiful\nIrolite,\" he exclaimed, as he drew his sabre; \"I will die for you or\ndeliver you from your enemies!\" With these words he made a blow at the\nforemost, and felled him to the earth. But oh, unexpected misfortune!\nthe wonderful sabre, which was the gift of the Fairy Danamo, flew into\na thousand pieces. She had foreseen this result of the combat. Whenever\nshe made a present of weapons, she charmed them in so peculiar a\nmanner, that the instant they were employed against her, the first blow\nshivered them to pieces.\n\nParcin Parcinet, then disarmed, could not make any prolonged\nresistance. He was overwhelmed by numbers, taken, laden with chains,\nand the young Irolite shared his fate. \"Ah, Fairy Favourable,\"\nmournfully ejaculated the Prince, \"abandon me to all the severity of\nDanamo, but save the fair Irolite!\" \"You have disobeyed the Fairy,\"\nreplied a youth of surprising beauty, who appeared in the air. \"You\nmust suffer the penalty. Had you not been so prodigal of her favour,\nwe should to-day have saved you for ever from the cruelties of\nDanamo. All the Empire of the Sylphs laments being deprived of the\nglory of securing happiness to so charming a Prince and so beautiful\na Princess.\" So saying, he vanished, and Parcin Parcinet groaned at\nthe recollection of his imprudence: he seemed insensible to his own\nmisfortunes, but how deeply did he feel those of Irolite! His remorse\nat having been the cause of them would have destroyed him, had not\nDestiny resolved that he should live to suffer still more cruel agony.\n\nThe young Irolite displayed a courage worthy of the illustrious race\nfrom which she had descended, and the pitiless Ormond, far from being\naffected at so touching a spectacle, strove to aggravate the misery he\noccasioned them. He had the prisoners separated, and so deprived them\nof the melancholy pleasure of mingling their tears over their departed\nhopes. Their wretched journey ended, they were taken to the palace of\nthe wicked Fairy. She felt a malignant joy at seeing the young Prince\nand Princess in a state that would have awakened pity in the heart of\nany other creature. Even Azire commiserated Parcin Parcinet, but did\nnot dare to evince it before the Fairy. \"I shall at length, then,\" said\nthe cruel Queen, addressing herself to the Prince, \"have the pleasure\nof revenging myself for thy ingratitude. Go! In lieu of ascending\nthe throne my favour had destined thee, enter the prison on the sea,\nin which thou shalt end thy wretched life in frightful tortures.\" \"I\nprefer the most horrible dungeon,\" replied the Prince, looking proudly\nat her, \"to the favours of so unjust a Queen as thou art!\" These words\nincreased the irritation of the Fairy. She had expected to see him\nhumble himself at her feet. She sent him instantly to the prison she\nhad fixed upon. Irolite wept as he was dragged away; Azire could not\nsuppress her sighs, and all the Court mourned in secret the merciless\nsentence. As for the beautiful Irolite, the Queen had her removed to\nthe Ch\u00e2teau in which she had previously so long resided, placed a\nstrict guard upon her, and treated her with all the inhumanity of which\nshe was capable.\n\nThe prison to which they conveyed the Prince was a frightful tower\nin the midst of the sea, built on a little desert island. They shut\nhim up in it, laden with irons, and treated him with all the severity\nimaginable. What an abode for a Prince worthy to reign over the\nuniverse! To think of Irolite was his sole occupation. He invoked the\nhelp of the Fairy Favourable for his dear Princess alone, and wished\na thousand times a day, to expiate by death the only injury he had\ndone her. His faithful slave had been consigned to the same prison,\nbut he had not the satisfaction of serving his illustrious master, and\nParcin Parcinet had about him none but fierce soldiers, devoted to the\nFairy, who nevertheless, while obeying her orders, respected, despite\nthemselves, the unfortunate captive. His youth, his beauty, and, above\nall, his courage, excited in them an admiration which compelled them\nto regard him as a man very superior to all others. The prudent Mana\nhad been dragged to the Ch\u00e2teau in which they had immured Irolite,\nas the Prince's faithful slave had been to the prison on the sea.\nDanamo's women alone approached the Princess, and by the Fairy's orders\noverwhelmed her every moment with new misery, by their accounts of the\nsufferings of Parcin Parcinet. The distresses of her lover made Irolite\nforget her own, and everything renewed her tears in that spot where she\nhad so often heard that charming Prince swear to her eternal fidelity.\n\"Alas!\" she murmured to herself, \"why have you been so faithful, my\ndear Prince? Your inconstancy would have killed me; but what of that,\nyou would have lived, and been happy!\"\n\nAfter three months' suffering, Danamo, who had employed that period\nin the preparation of a spell of extraordinary power, sent to Irolite\none morning a couple of lamps, one of gold, the other of crystal,\ncommanding her to keep one of the two always burning, but leaving her\nto choose which she would light. Irolite, with her natural docility,\nsent word that she would obey the Fairy's orders, without even seeking\nto comprehend their object.\n\nShe carried the two lamps carefully to a cabinet. The golden one was\nlighted when she received it, and therefore she allowed it to burn\nthroughout that day and night, and the next morning she lighted the\nother. In this manner she continued to obey the Fairy, lighting the\nlamps alternately for fifteen days, when her health became seriously\naffected. She attributed her failing strength to her sorrow, and,\nto increase her grief, they informed her that Parcin Parcinet was\nexceedingly ill. What tidings for Irolite! Her deep distress, her utter\nprostration, affected all her attendants. One evening, when the rest\nwere asleep, one of them softly approached the Princess, and seeing her\nabout to light the crystal lamp, said to her, \"Extinguish that fatal\nlight, your existence depends upon it. Save the life of one so lovely\nfrom the cruel designs of Danamo.\" \"Alas!\" feebly replied the wretched\nIrolite, \"she has rendered my life so miserable, that it is but kind\nof the Fairy to afford me such means of ending it; but,\" added she,\nwith an emotion which brought back the colour to her pale cheeks, \"what\nlife depends upon the golden lamp, which I have been equally careful to\nlight in its turn?\" \"That of Parcin Parcinet,\" answered the confidante\nof Danamo, for the woman was but obeying her orders in thus speaking to\nthe Princess. The wicked Fairy wished to torment her by this revelation\nof the cruel task she had imposed upon her. At this intelligence her\nagony at having unconsciously hastened the termination of her lover's\nexistence, deprived her for some considerable time of her senses. On\nrecovering them, she at the same time returned to her despair. \"Hateful\nFairy!\" she exclaimed, as soon as she had power to speak, \"Barbarous\nFairy! will not my death satisfy thy vengeance? Wouldst thou condemn\nme, inhuman, to destroy with my own hand a Prince so dear to me, and so\nworthy of the most perfect and tender affection? But death, a thousand\ntimes more merciful than thou art, will soon deliver me from all the\ntortures which thy wrath hath invented, to rack such fond and faithful\nhearts.\"\n\nThe young Princess wept incessantly over the fatal lamp, on which\ndepended the life of Parcin Parcinet, and from that moment only lighted\nthe one that wasted her own. That she saw burn with joy, regarding it\nas a sacrifice to love, and to her lover. In the meanwhile the wretched\nPrince was a prey to tortures, which surpassed even his powers of\nendurance. By command of the Fairy, one of his guards, feigning to\npity the misfortunes of the illustrious prisoner, informed him that\nIrolite had consented to marry Prince Ormond, a few days after he\n(Parcin Parcinet) had been consigned to the frightful dungeon in which\nhe still languished. That the Princess had appeared quite happy since\nher marriage, that she had been present at all the entertainments given\nin celebration of it, and had finally quitted the country with her\nhusband. This was the only misfortune the Prince had not anticipated,\nand it was also the only one too heavy for him to bear. \"What!\" he\nexclaimed, despairingly, \"Thou art faithless to me, dear Irolite! Thou\nart the bride of Ormond! Thou hast not even pitied my misfortunes. Thou\nhast but thought how to end those my love brought upon thyself. Live\nhappy, ungrateful Irolite! Inconstant as thou art, I still adore thee,\nand desire but to die for love, as thou wouldst not I should have the\nglory of dying for thee!\"\n\nWhilst Parcin Parcinet was plunged in this affliction, and the tender\nIrolite wasted her own life to prolong that of her lover, Danamo was\nmoved by the despair of Azire, who was dying with sorrow for the\nsufferings of Parcin Parcinet. The cruel Fairy perceived at length\nthat, to save the life of her child, it was necessary to pardon the\nPrince, to permit Azire to visit him, and to promise him all the\nbenefits that had previously awaited him, provided he consented to\nmarry her, and the Fairy determined to put Irolite to death, the moment\nthe Prince had accepted that offer.\n\nThe hope of again beholding Parcin Parcinet restored Azire to life,\nand the Fairy allowed her to send to Irolite's Ch\u00e2teau for the golden\nlamp, which she desired to keep in her own custody, that she might be\ncertain it was not lighted. This mandate seemed more cruel than all\nthe others to the afflicted Irolite. What anxiety did she not endure\nrespecting the fate of Parcin Parcinet. \"Do not distress yourself so\nmuch about the Prince,\" said the women in attendance upon her, \"he is\ngoing to marry the Princess Azire, and it is she who, interested in the\npreservation of his life, has sent for the lamp on which it depends.\"\n\nThe torments of jealousy had as yet been wanting, to complete the\nmisery of the unfortunate Irolite. At these words she felt them waking\nin her heart. In the meanwhile Azire had visited the Prince, and\noffered him her hand and her kingdoms; then, pretending to be ignorant\nthat he had been told that Irolite had married Ormond, she endeavoured\nto convince him by citing this example, that he had been more than\nsufficiently constant. Parcin Parcinet, to whom nothing was valuable\nwithout the charming Irolite, preferred his prison and his sufferings\nto liberty and sovereignty. Azire was distracted at his refusal, and\nher affliction rendered her almost as unhappy as he was.\n\nDuring this time the Fairy Favourable, who had hitherto boasted of\nher insensibility to love, had found it impossible to resist the\nattractions of a young Prince residing at her Court. He had conceived\na passion for her. The Fairy had considerable difficulty in bringing\nherself to let him know that his attentions had conquered her pride.\nAt length, however, she yielded to the desire of acquainting him with\nhis triumph. The pleasure of conversing with those we love appeared to\nher then so charming and so desirable, that, excusing the fault she had\nso severely punished, she repaired, in all haste, to the assistance of\nParcin Parcinet and the beautiful Irolite.\n\nA little later, and her aid would have been useless. The fatal lamp\nof Irolite had but six days longer to burn, and the grief of Parcin\nParcinet was rapidly terminating his existence, when the Fairy\nFavourable arrived at the Palace of Danamo. She was by far the most\npowerful, and made herself obeyed despite the anger of the wicked\nFairy. The Prince was released from prison; but he would not quit it\nuntil he was assured by Favourable that the fair Irolite might still\nbe his bride. He appeared, notwithstanding his pallor, more beautiful\nthan the day, the light of which he was once more permitted to behold.\nHe repaired, with the Fairy Favourable, to the Ch\u00e2teau of his Princess.\nHer lamp emitted but a feeble light, and the dying Irolite would not\nallow them to extinguish it until she had been assured of the fidelity\nof her now happy lover. There are no words capable of expressing the\nperfect joy experienced by the fond pair at this meeting. The Fairy\nFavourable restored them in an instant to all their former health and\nbeauty, and endowed them with long life and constant felicity. Their\naffection she found it impossible to increase. Danamo, furious at\nbeholding her authority thus overthrown, perished by her own hand. The\nfate of Azire and of Ormond was left by the Prince to the decision of\nIrolite. The only vengeance she took upon them was uniting them in\nmarriage, and Parcin Parcinet, as generous as he was constant, would\nonly receive his father's kingdom, leaving Azire to reign over those of\nDanamo.\n\nThe nuptials of the Prince and the divine Irolite were celebrated\nwith infinite magnificence, and after duly expressing their gratitude\nto the Fairy Favourable, and heaping rewards on the slave and the\nprudent Mana, they departed for their kingdom, where the Prince and the\ncharming Irolite enjoyed the rare happiness of loving as fondly and\ntruly in prosperity as they had done in adversity.\n\n\n\n\nANGUILLETTE.\n\n\nTo whatever greatness Destiny may elevate those it favours, there is no\nworldly felicity exempt from serious sorrow. One cannot be acquainted\nwith Fairies, and be ignorant that the most skilful amongst them have\nfailed to discover a charm which would secure them from the misfortune\nof being compelled to change their shape some few days in every month,\nfor that of some animal, terrestrial, celestial, or aquatic.\n\nDuring that dangerous period, when they are completely at the mercy of\nmankind, they have frequently great difficulty in saving themselves\nfrom the perils to which that stern necessity exposes them.\n\nOne amongst them, who had changed herself into an Eel, was\nunfortunately taken by fishermen, and flung immediately into a small\nsquare tank in the midst of a beautiful meadow, wherein they kept\nthe fish that were daily required for the table of the King of that\ncountry. Anguillette (so was the Fairy named) found in her new abode a\ngreat many fine fish destined, like herself, to live but a few hours.\nShe had heard the fishermen say to one another, that that very evening\nthe King purposed to give a grand banquet, for the which these fine\nfish had been carefully selected.\n\nWhat tidings for the unfortunate Fairy! She accused the Fates of\ncruelty a thousand times! She sighed most sadly; but after hiding\nherself for some time at the very bottom of the water, in order to\nbewail her misfortune in solitude, the desire to escape if possible\nfrom so urgent a peril, induced her to look about her in every\ndirection to see if she could not by some means get out of the\nreservoir, and regain the river which ran at no great distance from\nthat spot. But the Fairy looked in vain. The tank was too deep for her\nto hope to get out of it without help, and her distress was augmented\nby seeing the fishermen who had taken her again approaching. They\nbegan to throw in their nets, and Anguillette, by avoiding them with\ngreat cunning, retarded for a few moments the death that awaited her.\nThe youngest of the King's daughters was walking at that time in the\nmeadow. She approached the tank to amuse herself by seeing the men fish.\n\nThe sun, about to set, shone brilliantly on the water. The skin of\nAnguillette, which was very glossy, glittered in its rays as if partly\ngilt and of all the colours of the rainbow. The young Princess caught\nsight of her, and thinking her exceedingly beautiful, ordered the\nfishermen to try and catch that Eel for her. They obeyed, and the\nunfortunate Fairy was speedily placed in the hands of the person who\nwould decide her fate.\n\nWhen the Princess had contemplated Anguillette for a few moments, she\nwas touched with compassion, and running to the riverside, put her\ngently into the water. This unexpected service filled the Fairy's heart\nwith gratitude. She appeared on the surface, and said to the Princess,\n\"I owe you my life, generous Plousine (such was her name), but it is\nmost fortunate for you that I do so. Be not afraid,\" she continued,\nobserving the young Princess about to run away. \"I am a Fairy, and will\nprove the truth of my words by heaping an infinite number of favours\nupon you.\"\n\nAs people were accustomed in those days to behold Fairies, Plousine\nrecovered from her first alarm, and listened with great attention to\nthe agreeable promises of Anguillette. She even began to answer her;\nbut the Fairy interrupting her, said, \"Wait till you have profited by\nmy favour before you express your acknowledgments. Go, young Princess,\nand return to this spot to-morrow morning. Think, in the meantime, what\nyou would wish for, and whatever it may be I will grant it. You may, at\nyour choice, possess the most perfect and bewitching beauty, the finest\nand most charming intellect, or incalculable riches.\" After these\nwords, Anguillette sank to the bottom of the river, and left Plousine\nhighly gratified with her adventure.\n\nShe determined not to tell any one what had befallen her, \"For,\" said\nshe, to herself, \"if Anguillette should deceive me, my sisters will\nbelieve that I invented this story.\"\n\nAfter this little reflection, she hastened to rejoin her suite, which\nwas composed of only a few ladies. She found them looking for her.\n\nThe young Plousine was occupied all the succeeding night in thinking\nwhat should be her choice. Beauty almost turned the scale; but as she\nhad sufficient sense to desire still more, she finally determined to\nrequest that favour of the Fairy.\n\nShe rose with the sun, and ran to the meadow under the pretence of\ngathering flowers to make a garland, as she said, to present to the\nQueen, her mother, at her lev\u00e9e. Her attendants dispersed themselves\nabout the meadow to cull the freshest and most beautiful of the flowers\nwith which it was everywhere enamelled.\n\nMeanwhile, the young Princess hastened to the riverside, and found upon\nthe spot where she had seen the Fairy, a column of white marble, of\nthe most perfect purity. An instant afterwards, the column opened and\nthe Fairy emerged from it, and appeared to the Princess no longer as\na fish, but as a tall and beautiful woman, of majestic demeanour, and\nwhose robes and head-dress were covered with jewels.\n\n\"I am Anguillette,\" said she to the young Princess, who gazed upon her\nwith great attention; \"I come to fulfil my promise. You have chosen\nintellectual perfection, and you shall possess it from this very\nmoment. You shall have so much sense as to be envied by those who till\nnow have flattered themselves they were specially endowed with it.\"\n\nThe youthful Plousine, at these words, felt a considerable alteration\ntaking place in her mind. She thanked the Fairy with an eloquence that\ntill then she had been a stranger to.\n\nThe Fairy smiled at the astonishment the Princess could not conceal at\nher own powers of expression. \"I am so much pleased with you,\" said the\nbenignant Anguillette, \"for making the choice you have done, in lieu\nof preferring beauty of person, which has such charms for one of your\nsex and age, that to reward you, I will add the gift of that loveliness\nyou have so prudently foregone. Return hither to-morrow, at the same\nhour,--I give you till then to choose the style of beauty you would\npossess.\"\n\nThe Fairy disappeared, and left the young Plousine still more\nimpressed with her good fortune. Her choice of superior intellect was\ndictated by reason, but the promise of surpassing beauty flattered her\nheart, and that which touches the heart is always felt most deeply.\n\nOn quitting the riverside, the Princess took the flowers presented\nto her by her attendants, and made a very tasteful garland with\nthem, which she carried to the Queen; but what was her Majesty's\nastonishment, that of the King, and of all the Court, to hear Plousine\nspeak with an elegance and a fluency which captivated every heart.\n\nThe Princesses, her sisters, vainly endeavoured to contest her mental\nsuperiority; they were compelled to wonder at and admire it.\n\nNight came. The Princess, occupied with the expectation of becoming\nbeautiful, instead of retiring to rest, passed into a cabinet hung with\nportraits, in which, under the form of goddesses, were represented\nseveral of the Queens and Princesses of her family. All these were\nbeauties, and she indulged a hope that they would assist her in\ndeciding on a style of beauty worthy to be solicited from a Fairy. The\nfirst that met her sight was a Juno. She was fair and had a presence\nsuch as should distinguish the Queen of the Gods. Pallas and Venus\nstood beside her. The subject of the picture was the Judgment of Paris.\n\nThe noble haughtiness of Pallas excited the admiration of the young\nPrincess; but the loveliness of Venus almost decided her choice.\nNevertheless, she passed on to the next picture, in which was seen\nPomona reclining on a couch of turf, beneath trees laden with the\nfinest fruits in the world. She appeared so charming, that the\nPrincess, who since morning had become acquainted with all their\nstories, was not surprised that a God had taken various forms in order\nto please her.\n\nDiana next appeared, attired as the poets represent her, the quiver\nslung behind her, and the bow in her hand. She was pursuing a stag, and\nfollowed by a numerous band of Nymphs.\n\nFlora attracted her attention a little further off. She appeared to be\nwalking in a garden, the flowers of which, although exquisite, could\nnot be compared to the bloom of her complexion. Next came the Graces,\nbeautiful and enchanting. This picture was the last in the room.\n\nBut the Princess was struck by that which was over the mantel-piece.\nIt was the Goddess of Youth. A heavenly air was shed over her whole\nperson. Her tresses were the fairest in the world; the turn of her head\nwas most graceful, her mouth charming, her figure perfectly beautiful,\nand her eyes appeared much more likely to intoxicate than the nectar\nwith which she seemed to be filling a cup.\n\n\"I will wish,\" exclaimed the young Princess, after she had contemplated\nwith delight this lovely portrait, \"I will wish to be as beautiful as\nHebe, and to remain so as long as possible.\"\n\nAfter this determination she returned to her bed-chamber, where the day\nshe awaited seemed to her impatience as if it would never dawn.\n\nAt length it came, and she hastened again to the riverside. The Fairy\nkept her word. She appeared, and threw a few drops of water in the face\nof Plousine, who became immediately as beautiful as she had desired to\nbe.\n\nSome sea-gods had accompanied the Fairy. Their applause was the first\neffect produced by the charms of the fortunate Plousine. She looked at\nher image in the water, and could not recognise herself. Her silence\nand her astonishment were for the moment the only indications of her\nthankfulness.\n\n\"I have fulfilled all your wishes,\" said the generous Fairy. \"You\nought to be content; but I shall not be so if my favours do not far\nexceed your desires. In addition to the wit and beauty I have endowed\nyou with, I bestow on you all the treasures at my disposal. They are\ninexhaustible. You have but to wish whenever you please for infinite\nwealth, and at the same moment you will acquire it, not only for\nyourself, but for all those you may deem worthy to possess it.\"\n\nThe Fairy disappeared, and the youthful Plousine, now as lovely as\nHebe, returned to the palace. Everybody who met her was enchanted. They\nannounced her arrival to the King, who was himself lost in admiration\nof her, and it was only by her voice and her talent that they\nrecognised the amiable Princess. She informed the King that a Fairy\nhad bestowed all those precious gifts upon her; and she was no longer\ncalled anything but Hebe, in consequence of her perfect resemblance to\nthe portrait of that Goddess. What new causes were here to engender\nthe hatred of her sisters against her! The beauties of her mind had\nexcited their jealousy much less than those of her person.\n\nAll the Princes who had been attracted by their charms became faithless\nto them without the least hesitation. In like manner were all the other\nCourt beauties abandoned by their admirers. No tears or reproaches\ncould stop the flight of those inconstant lovers, and this conduct,\nwhich then appeared so singular, has since, it is said, become a common\ncustom.\n\nHebe inflamed all hearts around her, while her own remained insensible.\n\nNotwithstanding the hatred her sisters evinced towards her, she\nneglected nothing that she thought might please them. She wished for\nso much wealth for the eldest--and to wish and to give were the same\nthing to her,--that the greatest Sovereign in that part of the world\nrequested the hand of that Princess in marriage, and the nuptials were\ncelebrated with incredible magnificence. The King, Hebe's father,\ndesired to take the field with a great army. The wishes of his\nbeautiful daughter caused him to succeed in all his enterprises, and\nhis kingdom was filled with such immense wealth, that he became the\nmost formidable of all the monarchs in the universe.\n\nThe divine Hebe, however, weary of the bustle of the Court, was anxious\nto pass a few months in a pleasant mansion a short distance from the\ncapital. She had excluded from it all magnificence, but everything\nabout it was elegant, and of a charming simplicity. Nature alone had\ntaken care to embellish the walks, which Art had not been employed\nto form. A wood, the paths through which had something wild in their\nscenery, intersected by rivulets and little torrents that formed\nnatural cascades, surrounded this beautiful retreat.\n\nThe youthful Hebe often walked in this solitary wood. One day, when her\nheart felt more than usually oppressed with a tedium and lassitude to\nwhich she was now constantly subject, she endeavoured to ascertain the\nreason of it. She seated herself on the turf, beside a rivulet that\nwith gentle murmur courted meditation.\n\n\"What sorrow is it,\" she asked herself, \"that comes thus to trouble the\nexcess of my happiness? What Princess in all the universe is blest with\na lot so perfect as mine? The beneficence of the Fairy has accorded\nme all I wished for. I can heap treasures upon all who surround me. I\nam adored by all who behold me, and my heart is a stranger to every\npainful emotion. No! I cannot imagine whence arises the insupportable\nweariness which has for some time past detracted from the happiness of\nmy life.\"\n\nThe young Princess was incessantly occupied by this reflection. At\nlength she determined to go to the bank of Anguilette's river, and\nendeavour to obtain an interview with her.\n\nThe Fairy, accustomed to indulge her inclinations, appeared on the\nsurface of the water. It happened to be one of the days when she was\nchanged into a fish.\n\n\"It always gives me pleasure to see you, young Princess,\" said she\nto Hebe. \"I know you have been passing some time in a very solitary\ndwelling, and you appear to me in a languishing state, which does not\nat all correspond with your good fortune. What hails you, Hebe? Confide\nin me.\" \"There is nothing the matter,\" replied the young Princess,\nwith some embarrassment. \"You have showered too many benefits upon\nme for anything to be wanting to a felicity which is your own work.\"\n\"You would deceive me,\" rejoined the Fairy; \"I see it easily. You are\nno longer satisfied. Yet what more can you desire? Deserve my favour\nby a frank confession,\" added the gracious Fairy, \"and I promise you\nI will again fulfil your wishes.\" \"I know not what I wish,\" replied\nthe charming Hebe. \"But nevertheless,\" she continued, casting down\nher beautiful eyes, \"I feel a lack of something, and that, whatever\nit may be, it is that which is absolutely essential to my happiness.\"\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed the Fairy, \"it is love that you are sighing for. That\npassion alone could inspire you with such strange ideas. Dangerous\ndisposition!\" continued the prudent Fairy. \"You sigh for love--you\nshall experience it. Hearts are but too naturally disposed to be\naffected by it. But I warn you that you will vainly invoke me to\ndeliver you from the fatal passion you believe to be so sweet a\nblessing. My power does not extend so far.\"\n\n\"I care not,\" quickly replied the Princess, smiling and blushing at\nthe same moment. \"Alas! of what value to me are all the gifts you have\nbestowed upon me, if I cannot in turn make with them the happiness of\nanother?\" The Fairy sighed at these words, and sank to the bottom of\nthe river.\n\nHebe retraced her steps to the wilderness, her heart filled with a hope\nwhich already began to dissipate her melancholy. The warnings of the\nFairy caused her some anxiety; but her prudent reflections were soon\nbanished by others, as dangerous as they were agreeable.\n\nOn reaching home she found a courier awaiting her with a message from\nthe King, commanding her return to the Court that very day, in order\nthat she might be present at an entertainment in preparation for the\nsucceeding one. She took her departure accordingly, a few hours after\nthe receipt of the message, and returned to the Court, where she was\nreceived with great pleasure by the King and Queen; who informed her\nthat a foreign Prince, upon his travels, having arrived there a few\ndays previously, they had determined to give him a f\u00eate, that he might\ntalk in other countries of the magnificence displayed in their kingdom.\n\nThe youthful Hebe, obeying a presentiment of which she was unconscious,\nfirst inquired of the Princess, her sister, if the foreigner was\nhandsome. \"I never yet saw any one that could be compared to him,\"\nanswered the Princess. \"Describe, him to me,\" said Hebe, with emotion.\n\"He is such as they paint heroes,\" replied Ilerie. \"His form is\ngraceful; his demeanour noble; his eyes are full of a fire that has\nalready made more than one indifferent beauty at this Court acknowledge\ntheir power. He has the finest head in the world; his hair is dark\nbrown; and the moment he appears, he absorbs the attention of all\nbeholders.\"\n\n\"You draw a most charming portrait of him,\" said the youthful Hebe; \"is\nit not a little flattered?\" \"No, sister,\" replied the Princess Ilerie,\nwith a sigh she could not suppress. \"Alas! you will find him, perhaps,\nbut too worthy of admiration.\"\n\nThe Queen retired, and the beautiful Hebe, as soon as she had time to\nexamine her heart, perceived that she had lost that tranquillity of\nwhich, till now, she had not known the value.\n\n\"Anguillette!\" she exclaimed, as soon as she was alone. \"Alas! what is\nthis object which you have allowed to present itself to my sight? Your\nprudent counsels are rendered vain by its presence. Why do you not\ngive me strength enough to resist such attractive charms? It may be,\nhowever, that their power surpasses that of any Fairy.\"\n\nHebe slept but little that night. She rose very early, and the thought\nof how she should dress herself for the f\u00eate that evening occupied her\nthe whole day, to a degree she had been previously a stranger to, for\nit was the first time she had felt an anxiety to please.\n\nThe young foreigner, actuated by the same desire, neglected nothing\nthat might make him appear agreeable to the eyes of the charming\nHebe. The Princess Ilerie was equally solicitous of conquest. She\npossessed a thousand attractions, and when Hebe was not beside her,\nshe was considered the most beautiful creature in the world; but Hebe\noutshone every one. The Queen gave a magnificent ball that evening;\nit was succeeded by a marvellous banquet. The young foreigner would\nhave been struck by its prodigious splendour, if he could have looked\nat anything besides Hebe. After the banquet, a novel and brilliant\nillumination shed another daylight over the palace gardens. It was\nsummer-time; the company descended into the gardens for the pleasure of\nan evening promenade. The handsome foreigner conducted the Queen; but\nthis honour did not compensate him for being deprived of the company\nof his Princess, even for a few moments. The trees were decorated with\nfestoons of flowers, and the lamps which formed the illumination were\ndisposed in a manner to represent, in every direction, bows, arrows,\nand other weapons of Cupid, together, in some places, with inscriptions.\n\nThe company entered a little grove, illuminated like the rest of the\ngardens, and the Queen seated herself beside a pleasant fountain,\naround which had been arranged seats of turf, ornamented with garlands\nof pinks and roses. Whilst the Queen was engaged in conversation with\nthe King and a host of courtiers that surrounded them, the Princesses\namused themselves by reading the sentences formed by small lamps under\nthe various devices. The handsome foreigner was at that moment close\nto the beautiful Hebe. She turned her eyes towards a spot in which\nappeared a shower of darts, and read aloud these words, which were\ndisplayed beneath them:--\n\n \"Some are inevitable.\"\n\n\"They are those which are shot from the eyes of the divine Hebe,\"\nquickly added the Prince, looking at her tenderly. The Princess heard\nhim, and felt confused; but the Prince drew from her embarrassment a\nhappy augury for his love, as it appeared unmingled with anger. The\nf\u00eate terminated with a thousand delightful novelties. The charms of the\nstranger had touched too sensibly the heart of Ilerie for her to be\nlong without perceiving that he loved another. The Prince had paid her\nsome attention previous to the arrival of Hebe at Court; but since he\nhad seen the latter, he had been wholly engrossed by his passion.\n\nIn the meanwhile the young stranger endeavoured, by every proof of\naffection, to touch the heart of the beautiful Princess. He was\ndevoted, amiable--her fate compelled her to love, and the Fairy\nabandoned her to the inclinations of her heart. What excuses for\nyielding! She could no longer struggle against herself. The charming\nStranger had informed her that he was the son of a King, and that his\nname was Atimir. This name was known to the Princess. The Prince had\nperformed wonders in a war between the two kingdoms; and as they had\nalways been opposed to each other, he had not chosen to appear at the\nCourt of Hebe's royal father under his real name.\n\nThe young Princess, after a conversation during which her heart fully\nimbibed the sweet and dangerous poison of which the Fairy had warned\nher, gave permission to Atimir to disclose to the King his rank and his\nlove. The young Prince was transported with delight; he flew to the\nKing's apartments, and urged his suit with all the eloquence his love\ncould inspire him with.\n\nThe King conducted him to the Queen. This proposed marriage, assuring\nthe establishment of a lasting peace between the two kingdoms, the\nhand of the beautiful Hebe was promised to her happy lover as soon\nas he had received the consent of the King, his father. The news was\nsoon circulated, and the Princess Ilerie suffered anguish equal to her\njealousy. She wept--she groaned; but it was necessary to control her\nemotion and conceal her vain regrets.\n\nThe beautiful Hebe and Atimir now saw each other continually; their\naffection increased daily, and in those happy days the young Princess\ncould not imagine why the Fairies did not employ all their skill to\nmake mortals fall in love when they wished to insure their felicity.\n\nAn ambassador from Atimir's royal father arrived at Court. He had\nbeen awaited with the utmost impatience. He was the bearer of the\nrequired consent, and preparations were immediately commenced for the\ncelebration of those grand nuptials. Atimir had therefore no longer any\nreason for anxiety--a dangerous state for a lover one desires to retain\nfaithful.\n\nAs soon as the Prince felt certain of his happiness, he became less\nardent. One day that he was on his way to meet the fair Hebe in the\npalace gardens, he heard the voices of females in conversation in\na bower of honeysuckles. He caught the sound of his name, and this\nawakened his curiosity to know more. He approached the bower softly,\nand easily recognised the voice of the Princess Ilerie. \"I shall\ndie before that fatal day, my dear Cl\u00e9onice,\" said she, to a young\nperson seated beside her. \"The gods will not permit me to behold the\nungrateful object of my love united to the too fortunate Hebe. My\ntorments are too keen to endure much longer.\" \"But, madam,\" replied\nher female companion, \"Prince Atimir is not faithless; he has never\navowed love for you. Destiny alone is to blame for your misfortunes,\nand amongst all the princes who adore you, you might find, perhaps, one\nmore amiable than he is, did not a fatal prepossession engross your\nheart.\" \"More amiable than him!\" rejoined Ilerie. \"Is there such a\nbeing in the universe? Powerful Fairy!\" she added, with a sigh, \"of all\nthe blessings with which you have laden the fortunate Hebe, I but covet\nthat of Atimir's devoted attachment to her.\" The words of the Princess\nwere interrupted by her tears. Ah! how happy would she have been had\nshe known how much those tears had moved the heart of Atimir!\n\nShe rose to leave the bower, and the Prince hid himself behind some\ntrees to escape observation. The tears and the love of Ilerie had\naffected him deeply, but he imagined they were but the emotions of pity\nwhich he felt for a beautiful Princess whom he had unintentionally\nmade so miserable. He proceeded to join Hebe, and the contemplation of\nher charms banished for the moment all other thoughts from his mind.\nIn passing through the gardens, as he returned with the Princess Hebe\nto the Palace, he trod upon something which attracted his attention.\nHe picked it up, and found it was a set of magnificent tablets. It was\nnot far from the bower in which he had overheard the conversation of\nIlerie and her attendant. He feared if Hebe saw the tablets, she would\nobtain some knowledge of his adventure. He hid them, therefore, without\nher having observed them. She happened at that moment to be occupied in\nre-adjusting some ornament in her head-dress.\n\nThat evening Ilerie did not make her appearance in the Queen's\napartments. It was reported that she had felt indisposed on returning\nfrom her walk. Atimir perfectly understood that her object was to\nconceal the agitation to which he had seen her a prey in the bower of\nhoneysuckles. This reflection increased his compassion for her.\n\nAs soon as he had retired to his own chamber he opened the tablets he\nhad picked up. On the first leaf he saw a cipher formed of a double A,\ncrowned with a wreath of myrtle, and supported by two little Cupids,\none of whom appeared to be wiping the tears from his cheeks with the\nend of the ribbon that bandaged his eyes, and the other breaking his\narrows. The sight of this cipher agitated the young Prince. He knew\nthat Ilerie drew admirably. He turned over the leaf quickly to gain\nfurther information, and on the opposite side found the following\nlines:-\n\n    Hither all-conquering Love thy footsteps led;\n    At thy first glance sweet peace my bosom fled;\n    Oh, cruel one, to try on me the dart\n    With which you meant to wound another's heart!\n\nThe handwriting, which he recognised, but too clearly proved to him\nthat the tablets were those of the Princess Ilerie. He was affected\nby the great tenderness of these sentiments, which far from being\nnourished by his love and attentions, were not even encouraged by hope.\nThese verses reminded him that previous to the arrival of Hebe at Court\nhe had thought Ilerie lovely. He began to consider himself unfaithful\nto that Princess, and he became too seriously so to the charming Hebe.\n\nHe struggled, however, against these first emotions; but his heart was\naccustomed to range, and so dangerous a habit is rarely corrected.\n\nHe threw Ilerie's tablets on a table, resolving not to look at them any\nmore; but he took them up again a moment afterwards, despite himself,\nand found in them a thousand things which completed the triumph of\nIlerie over the divine Hebe.\n\nThe Prince's heart was occupied all night by conflicting feelings. In\nthe morning he waited on the King, who named the day he had fixed on\nfor his marriage with Hebe. Atimir replied with an embarrassment which\nthe King mistook for a proof of his passion--(how little do we know\nof the human heart!) It was the effect of his inconstancy! The King\ndesired to visit the Queen; the Prince was obliged to follow him. He\nhad been there but a short time when the Princess Ilerie appeared with\nan air of melancholy which made her more lovely in the eyes of the\ninconstant Atimir, who was aware of its cause. He approached her, and\ntalked to her for some time. He gave her to understand that he was no\nlonger ignorant of her affection for him. He spoke with ardour of his\nfeelings for her. It was too much for Ilerie. Ah! how is it possible to\nreceive calmly the assurance of so great so unexpected a happiness.\n\nThe charming Hebe entered the Queen's apartments shortly afterwards.\nHer sight brought the blood into the cheeks both of the Princess\nIlerie and of the fickle Atimir. \"How beautiful she is!\" exclaimed\nIlerie, looking at the Prince with an emotion she could not conceal.\n\"Avoid her, sir, or end at once my existence.\" The Prince had not\npower to answer her. Hebe approached them with a grace and charm\nwhich unconsciously loaded with reproaches the ungrateful Atimir. He\ncould not long endure his position. He quitted the Princess, saying\nthat he was anxious to despatch a courier to his father. She was so\nprepossessed in his favour that she never noticed some eloquent glances\nat Ilerie, which he cast on leaving her.\n\nWhile Ilerie triumphed in secret, the beautiful Hebe learned from the\nKing and Queen that in three days she was to be the bride of Atimir.\nHow unworthy was he of the sensations which this news awakened in the\nheart of the lovely Hebe.\n\nThe faithless Prince, though pre-occupied by his new passion, passed\npart of the day in Hebe's company. Ilerie was present, and was a\nthousand times ready to die with jealousy. Her love had redoubled since\nshe had entertained hope.\n\nOn returning to his own apartments in the evening, the Prince was\npresented with a note by an unknown messenger. He opened it hastily,\nand found in it these words:--\n\n\"I yield to a passion a thousand times stronger than my reason. Since I\ncan no longer attempt to conceal sentiments which chance has revealed\nto you, come, Prince, come, and learn the determination to which I am\ndriven by the love you have inspired me with. Oh, how happy will it be\nfor me if it cost me but my life!\"\n\nThe bearer of the note informed the Prince that he was commissioned to\nconduct him to the spot where the Princess Ilerie awaited him. Atimir\ndid not hesitate a moment to follow him, and after several turnings,\nhe was introduced into a little pavilion at the end of a very dark\navenue. The interior of the pavilion was sufficiently lighted. He found\nin it Ilerie with one of her attendants; the rest were walking in the\ngardens. When she had retired to this apartment, no one entered it\nwithout her orders. Ilerie was seated on a pile of cushions of crimson\nand gold embroidery. Her dress was rich and elegant, the material being\nof yellow and silver tissue. Her hair, which was black and exceedingly\nbeautiful, was ornamented with ribbons of the same colour as the dress,\nand ties of yellow diamonds. At her sight, Atimir could not persuade\nhimself that infidelity was a crime. He knelt at her feet, and Ilerie,\ngazing upon him with a tenderness sufficiently indicative of the\nemotion of her heart, said, \"Prince, I have not caused you to come\nhither in order to persuade you to break off your marriage; I know too\nwell it is determined upon, and the expressions with which you have\nendeavoured to alleviate my misfortune and flatter my affection do not\ninduce me to believe that you would abandon Hebe for me; but,\" she\ncontinued, with a gush of tears, which completed the conquest of the\nheart of Atimir, \"I will not endure the life which you have rendered\nso wretched. I will sacrifice it without regret to my love, and this\npoison,\" she added, showing a little box which she had in her hand,\n\"will save me from the fearful torment of seeing you the husband of\nHebe.\"\n\n\"No, beautiful Ilerie!\" exclaimed the fickle Prince, \"I will never be\nher husband. I will abandon all for your sake; I love you a thousand\ntimes better than I loved Hebe; and despite my duty and my faith so\nsolemnly plighted, I am ready to fly with you to a spot where no\nobstacle shall exist to our happiness.\" \"Ah, Prince!\" said Ilerie, with\na sigh, \"can I confide, then, in one so faithless?\" \"He will never be\nfaithless to you,\" rejoined Atimir. \"And the King, your father, who\ngave Hebe to me, will not refuse to sanction my union with the lovely\nIlerie, when she is already mine.\" \"Away, then, Atimir,\" said the\nPrincess, after a few minutes' silence. \"Let us hasten whither our\ndestiny leads us. Whatever misery the step entails on me, nothing can\nweigh against the sweet delights of loving and being beloved.\"\n\nAfter these words, they consulted together respecting their flight.\nThere was no time to lose. They determined to depart the following\nnight. They separated with regret, and, notwithstanding the vows of\nAtimir, Ilerie still feared the power of Hebe's attractions. The rest\nof that night and all the next day she was a prey to that anxiety.\n\nIn the meanwhile, the Prince hurriedly gave all the necessary orders\nfor keeping his departure secret, and the next day, as soon as\neverybody in the palace had retired to their apartments, he hastened\nto join Ilerie in the pavilion in the garden, where she awaited him,\nattended only by Cl\u00e9onice. They set out, and made incredible haste to\npass the frontiers of the kingdom.\n\nThe following morning the news was made public, by a letter which\nIlerie had written to the Queen, and another which Atimir had addressed\nto the King. They were couched in touching language, and it was easy to\nperceive that love had dictated them. The King and Queen were extremely\nenraged; but no words can express the agony of the unfortunate and\ncharming Hebe. What despair! what tears! what petitions to the Fairy\nAnguillette to terminate torments equal to the most cruel she had\npredicted! But the Fairy kept her word. In vain did Hebe seek the\nriverside. Anguillette did not appear, and she abandoned herself to all\nthe horrors of desperation. The Princes who had been discouraged by the\nsuccess of the ungrateful Atimir now felt their hopes revive; but their\nattentions and professions only increased the torture of the faithful\nHebe.\n\nThe King ardently desired that she should select for herself a husband,\nand had several times urged her to do so; but that duty appeared\ntoo cruel to her affectionate heart. She determined to fly from her\nfather's kingdom; but, before her departure, she went once more in\nsearch of Anguillette. The Fairy could no longer resist the tears of\nthe beautiful Hebe. She appeared to her, and at her sight the Princess\nwept still more, and had not the power to speak to her.\n\n\"You have now experienced,\" said the Fairy, \"what that fatal pleasure\nwhich I would never willingly have accorded to you is; but Atimir has\ntoo severely punished you, Hebe, for your neglect of my advice. Go!\nFly these scenes, where everything recalls to you the remembrance of\nyour love. You will find a vessel on the coast, which will bear you to\nthe only spot in the world where you can be cured of your unfortunate\nattachment; but take care,\" added Anguillette, raising her voice, \"when\nyour heart shall have regained its tranquillity, that you never seek\nto behold again the faithless Atimir, or it will cost you your life!\"\nHebe wished more than once to see that Prince again at whatever price\nLove might compel her to pay for that gratification; but a whisper\nof Reason, and respect for her own honour, induced her to accept the\nFairy's offer. She thanked her for this last favour, and departed the\nnext morning for the sea-coast, followed by such of her women as she\nhad most confidence in.\n\nShe found the vessel Anguillette had promised her. It was gilt all\nover. The masts were of marqueterie of the most admirable pattern; the\nsails, of rose-colour and silver tissue; and in every part of it was\ninscribed the word \"Liberty.\" The crew were attired in dresses of the\nsame colours as the sails. All appeared to breathe in this atmosphere\nthe sweet air of freedom.\n\nThe Princess entered a magnificent cabin. The furniture was admirable,\nand the paintings perfect. She was as much a prey to sorrow in this new\nabode as she was in her father's Court. They strove in vain to amuse\nher by a thousand pleasures; she was not yet in a state of mind to pay\nthe slightest attention to them.\n\nOne day while she was contemplating a painting in her cabin, which\nrepresented a landscape, she remarked in it a young shepherd, who, with\na smiling countenance, was depicted cutting nets to set at liberty a\ngreat number of birds that had been caught in them, and some of these\nlittle creatures seemed to be soaring to the skies with marvellous\nvelocity. All the other pictures displayed similar subjects. None\nsuggested an idea of love, and all appeared to boast the charms of\nLiberty. \"Alas!\" exclaimed the Princess, sorrowfully, \"will my heart\nnever enjoy that sweet happiness which reason prays for so often in\nvain?\"\n\nThe unfortunate Hebe thus passed her days, struggling between her love\nand her desire to forget it. The ship had been a month at sea without\ntouching anywhere, when one morning that the Princess was on deck she\nsaw land at a distance, which appeared to be that of a very lovely\ncountry. The trees were of surprising height and beauty, and as the\nvessel neared them, she perceived they were covered with birds of the\nmost brilliant plumage, whose songs made a charming concert. Their\nnotes were very soft, and it appeared as if they were afraid of making\ntoo much noise. They landed on this beautiful shore. The Princess\ndescended from the vessel, followed by her women, and from the moment\nshe breathed the air of this island, some unknown power seemed to set\nher heart at rest, and she fell into an agreeable slumber, which for a\nshort time sealed up her beautiful eyes.\n\nThis pleasant country, to which she was a stranger, was the Peaceful\nIsland. The Fairy Anguillette, a near relation of the Princes who\nreigned in these parts, had conferred upon it, for two thousand years,\nthe happy power of curing unfortunate attachments. It is confidently\nasserted that it still possesses that power; but the difficulty is to\nfind the island.\n\nThe Prince who reigned in it at that period, was descended in a right\nline from the celebrated Princess Carpillon and her charming husband,\nof whom a modern Fairy, wiser and more polished than those of ancient\ntimes, has so gracefully recounted the wonderful adventures.[8]\n\nWhile the fair Hebe enjoyed a repose, the sweetness of which she had\nnot tasted for six months, the Prince of the Peaceful Island was taking\nan airing in the wood that fringed the shore. He was seated in his car,\ndrawn by four young white elephants, and surrounded by a portion of\nhis Court. The sleeping Princess attracted his attention. Her beauty\nastonished him. He descended from his car with a haste and vivacity\nunusual to his nature. He felt at the sight of her all the love which\nthe charms of Hebe were worthy to inspire. The noise awoke her, and\non opening her lovely eyes, she was struck by a thousand beauties in\nthe young Prince. He was of the same age as Hebe--just nineteen. He\nwas perfectly handsome, his figure full of grace, his height above\nthe ordinary standard, and his hair, which fell in rich curls down to\nhis waist, was of the same colour as Hebe's. His dress was composed\nof feathers of a thousand different colours, over which he wore a\nsort of mantle, with a train all made of swan's-down, and fastened on\nhis shoulders by the finest jewels in the world. His girdle was of\ndiamonds, from which hung by golden chains a small sabre, the hilt and\nsheath of which were entirely covered with rubies. A sort of helmet,\nmade of feathers like the rest of his attire, crowned his handsome\nhead, and on one side of it, fastened by a diamond of prodigious size,\nwas a plume of heron's feathers, which added greatly to the effect of\nhis appearance.\n\nThe Prince was the first object that presented itself to the eyes\nof the young Princess at her waking. He appeared worthy of her\nobservation, and for the first time in her life she looked upon another\nthan Atimir with some interest.\n\n\"Everything assures me,\" said the Prince of the Peaceful Island to\nthe Princess, \"that you can be no other than the divine Hebe. Alas!\nwho else could possess so many charms?\" \"Who, my Lord,\" replied the\nyoung Princess, blushing, as she rose to her feet, \"could have so soon\ninformed you of my having landed on this island?\" \"A powerful Fairy,\"\nanswered the young monarch, \"who, desirous of making me the happiest\nPrince in the world, and this country the most fortunate, had promised\nto lead you hither, and had even permitted me to indulge in the\nproudest hopes; but I am too well aware,\" he added, with a sigh, \"that\nmy fate depends much more upon your favour than upon hers.\"\n\nAfter this speech, to which she replied with much propriety, the\nPrince requested her to enter his car, that she might be conducted to\nthe palace; and out of respect to her, he would have declined taking\nhis place in it, but as she had gathered from his language and his\nattendants that he was the sovereign of the island, she insisted on\nhis seating himself beside her. Never had two such beautiful persons\nbeen seen in the same car. All the Prince's courtiers at the sight\ninvoluntarily burst into a tumult of applause. On the road, the young\nPrince entered into conversation with Hebe, with great animation and\ntenderness; and the Princess, happy to find her heart once more at\nease, had recovered all her natural vivacity.\n\nThey reached the palace; it was not far from the sea-coast. It was\napproached through long and beautiful avenues, bordered by canals of\nrunning water. It was built entirely of ivory and roofed with agate.\n\nThe Prince's guards were drawn up in line in all the courts. In the\nfirst, they were clothed with yellow feathers, and carried quivers,\nbows and arrows of silver. In the second, they were all clothed with\nflame-coloured feathers, and wore sabres with golden hilts, and sheaths\nornamented with turquoises. The royal party entered the third court,\nin which the guards were dressed in white feathers, and held in their\nhands demi-lances painted and gilt, and entwined with garlands of\nflowers. There was never any war in that country, so that they did not\ncarry any formidable weapons.\n\nThe Prince, descending from his car, led the lovely Hebe to a\nmagnificent apartment. His Court was numerous, the ladies were\nbeautiful; the men gallant and graceful; and although everybody in the\nIsland was dressed in feathers only, they evinced so much taste in the\narrangement of the colours, that the effect was very agreeable.\n\nThat evening, the Prince of the Peaceful Island gave a superb banquet\nto the beautiful Hebe, which was followed by a concert of flutes,\nlutes, theorbos and harpsichords. In that country they were not fond of\nany noisy instruments. The music was very charming; when it had lasted\nsome time, a very sweet voice sang the following words:--\n\n    Ever to be thy beauty's slave I swear,\n      Nor can my heart conceive a happier state\n    Than constant bondage in a chain so fair--\n      Faithful as fond--on thee depends my fate.\n\nThe Prince gazed on Hebe while this tender air was sung, with an\nexpression which persuaded her that the verses but declared his own\nsentiments.\n\nWhen the concert was over, the Prince of the Peaceful Island, as it was\nlate, led the Princess to the apartment selected for her. It was the\nmost beautiful room in the palace. She found in it a great many ladies,\nwho had been chosen by the Prince to have the honour of attending upon\nher.\n\nThe Prince quitted the beautiful Hebe the most enamoured of men. The\nPrincess retired to rest, the ladies of the Court withdrew, and no one\nremained in the bed-chamber except the attendants she had brought with\nher. \"Who could have believed it?\" said she to them, as soon as they\nwere left together, \"my heart is tranquil. What deity has appeased my\nsufferings? I no longer love Atimir. I can think that he is the husband\nof Ilerie without dying of grief. Is not all this a dream which passes\naround me? No,\" she continued, after a moment's pause; \"for even my\ndreams were never so free from agitation.\" She then returned thanks a\nthousand times to Anguillette, and fell asleep.\n\nWhen she awoke the next morning the Fairy appeared to her with a\ngracious smile upon her countenance, which she had not seen her wear\nsince the fatal day she had requested the gift of love. \"At length,\"\nsaid the kind Fairy, \"I have fortunately brought you hither. Your heart\nis free, and therefore it may be happy. I have cured you of a baneful\npassion; but, Hebe, may I trust that the fearful torments to which you\nhave been exposed will sufficiently induce you to shun for ever those\nplaces in which you might chance to meet the ungrateful Atimir.\" What\npromises did not the young Princess make to the Fairy! How repeatedly\ndid she abjure love and her faithless lover! \"Remember, at least, your\npromises,\" rejoined the Fairy, with an air that inspired respect. \"You\nwill perish with Atimir should you ever seek again to behold him;\nbut everything around you here ought to prevent your entertaining a\ndesire so fatal to your existence. I will no longer conceal from you\nwhat I have determined upon in your favour. The Prince of the Peaceful\nIsland is my kinsman. I protect him and his empire. He is young, he\nis amiable, and no Prince in the world is so worthy of being your\nhusband. Reign, then, fair Hebe, in his heart and over his realm. Your\nroyal father consents to your union. I was in his palace yesterday. I\ninformed him and the Queen of your present position, and they gave me\nfull power to care for your future fortunes.\"\n\nThe Princess was greatly tempted to ask the Fairy what news had been\nheard of Atimir and Ilerie since her departure, but she dared not,\nafter so many favours, run the risk of displeasing her. She employed to\nthank her all the eloquence the Fairy had gifted her with.\n\nHer attendants now entered the chamber, and the Fairy disappeared. As\nsoon as Hebe had arisen, twelve children of the most perfect beauty,\ndressed as Cupids, brought to her from the Prince twelve crystal\nbaskets, filled with the most brilliant and fragrant flowers in the\nworld. These flowers covered sets of jewels of all colours and of\nmarvellous beauty. In the first basket presented to her, she found a\nnote containing these lines:--\n\n            TO THE DIVINE HEBE.\n\n    That I adored thee yesterday I swore\n    An hundred times; and broken ne'er can be\n    The vows I uttered from my fond heart's core;\n    For Love himself dictated them to me,\n    And beauty such as thine ensureth constancy.\n\nAfter what the Fairy had ordained, the Princess comprehended that she\nought to receive these attentions from her new admirer as those of a\nPrince who was shortly to be her husband.\n\nShe received the little Cupids very graciously, and they had scarcely\ntaken their departure, when twenty-four dwarfs, fancifully, but\nmagnificently attired, appeared, bearing other presents. They consisted\nof dresses made entirely of feathers; but the colours, the work, and\nthe jewels with which they were ornamented were so beautiful, that the\nPrincess admitted she had never seen anything so elegant.\n\nShe chose a rose-coloured dress to wear that day. Her head-dress\nwas composed of plumes of the same colour. She appeared so charming\nwith these new ornaments, that the Prince of the Peaceful Island,\nwho came to see her as soon as she was dressed, felt his passion for\nher redoubled. All the Court hastened to admire the Princess. In the\nevening the Prince proposed to the fair Hebe to descend into the\npalace gardens, which were admirably laid out.\n\nDuring the promenade, the Prince informed Hebe that the Fairy had, for\nthe last four years, led him to expect that Princess's arrival in the\nPeaceful Island; \"but shortly after that period,\" added the Prince, \"on\nmy pressing her to fulfil her promise, she appeared distressed, and\nsaid to me, 'The Princess Hebe is destined by her father to another;\nbut if my science does not deceive me, she will not marry the Prince\nwho has been chosen for her husband. I will let you know the issue.'\nSome months afterwards the Fairy returned to the island. 'Fate favours\nyou,' said she to me: 'the Prince who was to have married Hebe will\nnot be her husband, and in a short time you will behold here the most\nbeautiful Princess in the world.'\"\n\n\"It is true,\" replied Hebe, blushing, \"that I was to have married the\nson of a King whose dominions were adjacent to those of my father;\nbut, after several events, the love he conceived for the Princess, my\nsister, induced him to fly with her from my father's kingdom.\"\n\nThe Prince of the Peaceful Island said a thousand tender things to the\nbeautiful Hebe respecting the happy destiny which, in accordance with\nthe Fairy's desire, had brought the Princess into his dominions. She\nlistened to him with greater pleasure, as it interrupted her account of\nher own adventures, for she feared she could not speak of her faithless\nlover without the Prince's observing how great had been her affection\nfor him.\n\nThe Prince of the Peaceful Island led Hebe into a grotto, highly\ndecorated, and embellished by wonderful fountains. The further end\nof the grotto was dark; there were a great many niches in it, filled\nwith statues of nymphs and shepherds, but they could scarcely be\ndistinguished in the obscurity. As soon as the Princess had remained a\nfew minutes in the grotto, she heard some agreeable music. A sudden and\nvery brilliant illumination disclosed to her that it was a portion of\nthese statues who were performing this music, whilst the rest advanced,\nand danced before her a very elegant and well-conceived ballet. It was\nintermixed with sweet and tender songs.\n\nThey had placed all the actors in this divertissement in the depths of\nthe grotto, to surprise the Princess more agreeably.\n\nAfter the ballet wild men appeared, and served up a superb collation\nunder an arbour of jasmine and orange flowers.\n\nThe entertainment had nearly reached its termination, when suddenly the\nFairy Anguillette appeared in the air, seated in a car drawn by four\nmonkeys. She descended, and announced to the Prince of the Peaceful\nIsland a delightful piece of good fortune, by apprising him that it\nwas her desire he should become the husband of Hebe, and that that\nbeautiful Princess had promised her consent.\n\nThe Prince, transported with joy, was uncertain at the moment whether\nhis first thanks were due to Hebe or to Anguillette; and although joy\ndoes not inspire one with such affecting expressions as sorrow, he\nnevertheless acquitted himself with much talent and grace.\n\nThe Fairy determined not to leave the Prince and Princess before the\nday fixed for their union. It was to be in three days. She made superb\npresents to the fair Hebe and to the Prince of the Peaceful Island, and\nat length, on the day she had named, they repaired, followed by their\nwhole Court and an infinite number of the inhabitants of the Island, to\nthe temple of Hymen.\n\nIt was constructed simply of branches of olive and palmtrees\ninterlaced, and which, by the power of the Fairy, never withered.\n\nHymen was therein represented by a statue of white marble, crowned with\nroses, elevated on an altar, decorated only with flowers, and leaning\non a little Cupid of exquisite beauty, who, with a smiling countenance,\npresented to him a crown of myrtle.\n\nAnguillette, who had erected this temple, resolved that everything in\nit should be marked by the greatest simplicity, to show that love alone\ncould render Hymen happy. The difficulty is to unite them. As it was a\nmiracle worthy the power of a Fairy, she had joined them indissolubly\nin the Peaceful Island, and, contrary to the custom in other kingdoms,\none could there be married, and remain fond and faithful.\n\nIn this temple of Hymen the fair Hebe, led by Anguillette, plighted her\ntroth to the Prince of the Peaceful Island, and received his vows with\npleasure. She did not feel for him the same involuntary inclination\nwhich she had done for Atimir; but her heart, being at that moment free\nfrom passion, she received this husband, by command of the Fairy, as a\nPrince worthy of her by his personal merit, and still more so by the\naffection he bore to her.\n\nThe marriage was celebrated by a thousand splendid entertainments, and\nHebe found herself happy with a Prince who adored her.\n\nIn the meanwhile the King, Hebe's father, had received some ambassadors\nfrom Atimir, who sent them to request permission for him to espouse\nIlerie. The King, Atimir's father, was dead, and that Prince was\nconsequently absolute master in his own country. The hand of the\nPrincess he had carried off was accorded to him with joy. After the\nmarriage Queen Ilerie sent other ambassadors to her royal parents\nto request permission for her to revisit their Court, and to obtain\ntheir forgiveness for the fault which love had caused her to commit,\nand which the merit of Atimir might be pleaded in excuse of. The\nKing consented, and Atimir proceeded to the Palace with his bride.\nA thousand entertainments marked the day of their arrival. Shortly\nafterwards the fair Hebe and her charming husband sent ambassadors also\nto the King and Queen, to announce their marriage to them. Anguillette\nhad already informed them of the event, but they did not on that\naccount receive the ambassadors with less delight or distinction.\n\nAtimir was with the King when they were introduced to their first\naudience. The lovely form of Hebe could never be effaced from a heart\nin which she had reigned with such supreme power. Atimir sighed, in\nspite of himself, at the recital of the happiness of the Prince of the\nPeaceful Island. He even accused Hebe of being inconstant, forgetting\nhow much reason he had given her for becoming so.\n\nThe ambassadors of the Prince of the Peaceful Island returned to their\nsovereign laden with honours and presents. They related to the Princess\nhow much delight the King and Queen had manifested at the tidings of\nher happy marriage. But, oh! too faithful chroniclers, they informed\nher at the same time that the Princess Ilerie and Atimir were at the\nCourt. These names, so dangerous to her peace, renewed her anxiety.\nShe was happy; but can mortals command uninterrupted felicity?\n\nShe could not resist her impatience to return to the Court of the King,\nher father. It was only, she said, to see once more him and her mother.\nShe believed this herself; and how often, when we are in love, do we\nmistake our own feelings!\n\nNotwithstanding the threats uttered by the Fairy, in order to prevent\nher from revisiting the spot where she might again behold Atimir, she\nproposed this voyage to the Prince of the Peaceful Island. At first\nhe refused. Anguillette had forbidden him to let Hebe go out of his\ndominions. She continued to press him. He adored her, and was ignorant\nof the passion she had formerly entertained for Atimir. Is it possible\nto refuse anything to those we love?\n\nHe hoped to please Hebe by his blind obedience. He gave orders for\ntheir departure, and never was there seen such magnificence as was\ndisplayed in his equipage and on board his vessels.\n\nThe sage Anguillette, indignant at the little respect paid by Hebe and\nthe Prince of the Peaceful Island to her instructions, abandoned them\nto their destiny, and did not make her appearance to renew the prudent\nadvice by which they had so little profited.\n\nThe Prince and Princess embarked, and after a very prosperous voyage,\narrived at the Court of Hebe's father. The King and Queen were\nextremely delighted to behold once more that dear Princess. They were\ncharmed with the Prince of the Peaceful Island: they celebrated the\narrival of the royal pair by a thousand entertainments throughout the\nkingdom. Ilerie trembled on hearing of the return of Hebe. It was\ndecided that they should meet, and that no reference whatever should be\nmade to past events.\n\nAtimir requested to be allowed to see Hebe. It appeared to Ilerie,\nindeed, that he preferred his request with a little too much eagerness.\n\nThe Princess Hebe blushed when he entered her apartment, and they both\nfelt an embarrassment out of which all their presence of mind could not\nextricate them.\n\nThe King, who was present, remarked it. He joined in their\nconversation; and to render the visit shorter, proposed to the Princess\nto descend into the Palace Gardens.\n\nAtimir dared not offer his hand to Hebe. He bowed to her respectfully,\nand retired.\n\nBut what thoughts and what feelings did he not carry away with him in\nhis heart! All the deep and tender passion he had formerly felt for\nHebe was rekindled in a moment. He hated Ilerie; he hated himself.\nNever was infidelity followed by so much repentance, nor by so much\nsuffering.\n\nIn the evening he went to the Queen's apartments. The Princess Hebe\nwas there. He had no eyes but for her. He sought assiduously for\nan opportunity of speaking to her. She continued to avoid him; but\nher glances were too clearly comprehended by him for his peace. He\npersisted for some time in compelling her to observe that her eyes had\nregained their former empire over him.\n\nHebe's heart was alarmed by it. Atimir appeared to her still too\ncharming. She determined to shun him as carefully as he sought her. She\nnever spoke to him but in presence of the Queen, and then only when she\ncould not possibly avoid it. She resolved also to advise the Prince of\nthe Peaceful Island to return speedily to his own kingdom. But with\nwhat difficulty do we endeavour to fly from those we love!\n\nOne evening that she was reflecting on this subject, she shut herself\nup in her cabinet, in order to indulge in her musings without\ninterruption. She found in her pocket a note, which had been slipped\ninto it unperceived by her, and the handwriting of Atimir, which she\nrecognised, threw her into an agitation which cannot be described. She\nconsidered she ought not to read it; but her heart triumphed over her\nreason, and opening it she found these lines:--\n\n    No more my love can to your heart appeal--\n    For me indifference alone you feel.\n    Your heart, fair Hebe, faithless is in turn,\n    So soon my fatal falsehood could it learn.\n    Alas, why can you not, with equal speed,\n    Back to its early faith the truant lead?\n\n    The happy time is past when Hebe fair,\n    Love's pains and pleasures deigned with me to share.\n    Both have their fetters broken, it is true,\n    But I my bondage hasten to renew.\n    Alas! for my sad fault must I atone,\n    By languishing in this sweet chain alone?\n\n\"Ah, cruel one!\" exclaimed the Princess. \"What have I done to you that\nyou seek to rekindle in my soul a passion which has cost me so much\nagony?\" The tears of Hebe interrupted her utterance.\n\nIn the meanwhile Ilerie was tortured by a jealousy which was but too\nwell founded. Atimir, carried away by his passion, lost all control\nover himself. The Prince of the Peaceful Island began to perceive his\nattachment to Hebe; but he was desirous of examining more narrowly the\nconduct of Atimir before he spoke to the Princess on the subject. He\nadored her with unabating constancy, and feared by his remarks to draw\nher attention to the passion of his rival.\n\nA few days after Hebe had received Atimir's note, a tournament was\nproclaimed. The Princes, and all the young noblemen of the Court, were\ninvited to break a lance in honour of the ladies.\n\nThe King and Queen honoured the tournament with their presence. The\nfair Hebe and the Princess Ilerie were to confer the prizes with their\nown hands. One was a sword, the hilt and sheath of which were entirely\ncovered with jewels of extraordinary beauty. The other, a bracelet of\nbrilliants of the finest water.\n\nAll the knights entered for the lists made their appearance with\nmarvellous magnificence, and mounted on the finest horses in the world.\nEach wore the colours of his mistress, and on their shields were\npictured gallant devices, expressive of the sentiments of their hearts.\n\nThe Prince of the Peaceful Island was superbly attired, and rode a\ndun-coloured horse with black mane and tail of incomparable beauty. In\nall his appointments rose colour was predominant. It was the favourite\ncolour of Hebe. An ample plume of the same hue floated above his light\nhelmet. He drew down the applause of all the spectators, and looked so\nhandsome in his brilliant armour, that Hebe mentally reproached herself\na thousand times for entertaining such feelings as the unhappiness of\nanother had inspired her with.\n\nThe retinue of the Prince of the Peaceful Island was numerous. They\nwere all attired according to the fashion of their country. Everything\naround him was elegant and costly. An esquire bore his shield, and all\nwere eager to examine the device.\n\nIt was a heart pierced with an arrow; a little Cupid was depicted\nshooting many others at it to inflict fresh wounds, but all except the\nfirst appeared to have been shot in vain. Beneath were these words:--\n\n \"I fear no others.\"\n\nThe colour and the device of the Prince of the Peaceful Island,\nrendered it obvious that it was as the champion of the fair Hebe he had\nchosen to enter the lists.\n\nThe spectators were still admiring his magnificent array, when Atimir\nappeared, mounted on a proud and fiery steed, entirely black. The\nprevailing colour of the dress he had assumed for that day was what is\nusually termed \"dead-leaf,\" unadorned with gold, silver, or jewels; but\non his helmet he wore a tuft of rose-coloured feathers, and although he\naffected great negligence in his attire, he was so handsome, and bore\nhimself so proudly, that from the moment he entered the lists no one\nlooked at anything else. On his shield, which he carried himself, was\npainted a Cupid trampling upon some chains, while at the same time he\nwas loading himself with others that were heavier. Around the figure\nwere these words:--\n\n \"These alone are worthy of me.\"\n\nThe train of Atimir were attired in dead-leaf and silver, and on them\nhe had showered jewels. It was composed of the principal noblemen of\nhis Court, and although they were all fine-looking men, it was easy\nto see by the air of Atimir that he was born to command them. It is\nimpossible to describe the various emotions which the sight of Atimir\nawakened in the hearts of Hebe and Ilerie, and the poignant jealousy\nwhich the Prince of the Peaceful Island felt when he saw floating over\nthe helmet of Atimir, a plume of the same colour as his own.\n\nThe motto of his device kindled his anger into a fury, which he\ncontrolled for the moment, only to choose a better time to vent it on\nhis rival.\n\nThe King and Queen saw clearly enough the audacity and imprudence of\nAtimir, and were exceedingly angry with him; but it was not the time to\nshow it.\n\nThe tilting was commenced amidst a flourish of trumpets which rent\nthe air. It was exceedingly good. All the young knights made proof of\ntheir skill. The Prince of the Peaceful Island, although a prey to his\njealousy, signalized himself particularly, and remained conqueror.\n\nAtimir, who was aware that the prize for the first encounter would be\ngiven by Ilerie, did not present himself to dispute the victory with\nthe Prince of the Peaceful Island. The judges of the field declared\nthe latter victor; and, amidst the acclamation and applause of all the\nspectators, he advanced with the greatest possible grace to the spot\nwhere the Royal Family were seated, to receive the diamond bracelet.\n\nThe Princess Ilerie presented it to him. He received it with due\nrespect, and having saluted the King, Queen, and Princesses, returned\nto his place in the lists.\n\nThe mournful Ilerie had too clearly observed the contempt with which\nthe fickle Atimir had treated the prize destined to be accorded by\nher hand. She sighed sadly, while the fair Hebe felt a secret joy\nwhich reason vainly endeavoured to stifle in her heart. Other courses\nwere run with results similar to those which had preceded them. The\nPrince of the Peaceful Island, animated by the presence of Hebe,\nperformed wonders, and was a second time conqueror; but Atimir, weary\nof beholding the glory of his rival, and flattered by the idea of\nreceiving the prize from the hand of Hebe, presented himself at the\nopposite end of the lists.\n\nThe rivals gazed at each other fiercely, and the impending encounter\nbetween two such great Princes was distinguished by the fresh agitation\nwhich it excited in the two Princesses. The Princes ran their course\nwith equal advantage. Each broke his lance fairly without swerving in\nhis saddle. The acclamations were redoubled, and the Princes, without\ngiving their horses time to breathe, returned to their places, received\nfresh lances, and ran a second course with the same address as the\nfirst. The King, who feared to see Fortune give the victory to either\nof these rivals, and in order to spare the feelings of both, sent in\nall haste to them to say that they ought to be satisfied with the glory\nthey had acquired, and to request them to let the tilting terminate for\nthat day with the course they had just run.\n\nThe King's messenger having approached them, they listened with\nimpatience to the royal request, particularly Atimir, who, seizing the\nfirst opportunity to reply, said, \"Go, tell the King that I should be\nunworthy the honour he does me in taking an interest in my glory, if I\ncould remain satisfied without conquest.\"\n\n\"Let us see,\" rejoined the Prince of the Peaceful Island, clapping\nspurs to his horse, \"who best deserves the esteem of the King and the\nfavours of Fortune!\"\n\nThe King's messenger had not retraced his steps to the royal balcony\nbefore the two rivals, animated by stronger feelings than the mere\ndesire to carry off the prize of the joust, had met in full career.\n\nFortune favoured the audacious Atimir: he was the conqueror. The horse\nof the Prince of the Peaceful Island, fatigued with the many severe\ncourses he had run, fell, and rolled his master in the dust.\n\nWhat joy for Atimir! and what fury for the unfortunate Prince of the\nPeaceful Island! Leaping to his feet again instantly, and advancing\nto his rival before any one could reach to part them,--\"Thou hast\nconquered me in these games, Atimir,\" said he, with an air which\nsufficiently expressed his wrath, \"but it is with the sword that our\nquarrel must be decided.\" \"Willingly,\" replied the haughty Atimir.\n\"I will await thee to-morrow at sunrise in the wood that borders the\npalace gardens.\" The Judges of the Field joined them as these last\nwords were uttered, and the Princes mutually affected unconcern, for\nfear the King should suspect and frustrate their intentions. The Prince\nof the Peaceful Island remounted his horse, and rode with all the speed\nhe could urge it to, from the fatal spot where he had been defeated by\nAtimir. In the meanwhile that Prince proceeded to receive the prize\nof the joust from the hand of Hebe, who presented it to him with a\nconfusion sufficiently betraying the conflicting emotions in her bosom;\nwhile Atimir, in receiving it, displayed all the extravagancies of a\npassionate lover.\n\nThe King and Queen, who kept their eyes upon him, could not fail to\nobserve this, and returned to the Palace much discontented with the\ntermination of the day. Atimir, occupied only by his passion, left\nthe lists, forbidding any of his train to accompany him; and Ilerie,\nsmarting with grief and jealousy, retired to her apartments.\n\nWhat then were the feelings of Hebe! \"I must depart,\" she said to\nherself. \"What other remedy is there for the evil I anticipate?\"\n\nIn the meanwhile, the King and the Queen determined to request Atimir\nwould return to his own dominions, to avoid the painful consequences\nwhich his love might entail upon them. They resolved also to make the\nsame proposition to the Prince of the Peaceful Island, in order not to\nshow any preference for either; but ah! too tardy prudence! whilst they\nwere deliberating how best to secure the departure of the two Princes,\nthe rivals were preparing to meet in mortal combat.\n\nHebe, on returning from the lists, immediately inquired for the Prince\nof the Peaceful Island. She was answered that he was in the palace\ngardens; that he had desired he might not be followed, and that he\nappeared very melancholy. The fair Hebe thought it was her duty to seek\nand console him for the slight mischances which had happened to him,\nand therefore, without staying a moment in her own apartment, descended\ninto the gardens, followed only by a few of her women.\n\nIn the course of her search for the Prince of the Peaceful Island, she\nentered a shady alley, and came suddenly on the enamoured Atimir, who,\ntransported by his passion, and listening only to its promptings, threw\nhimself on his knees at a short distance from the Princess, and drawing\nthe sword which he had that day received from her hand, exclaimed,\n\"Hear me, beautiful Hebe! or see me die at your feet!\"\n\nHebe's attendants, terrified by the actions of the Prince, rushed upon\nhim, and endeavoured to force from his grasp the sword, the point of\nwhich he had directed towards himself with desperate resolution. Hebe,\nthe unhappy Hebe, would have flown from the spot; but how many reasons\nconcurred to detain her near him she loved!\n\nThe desire to suppress the scandal this adventure might create; the\nintention to implore Atimir to endeavour to stifle a passion which\nwas so perilous to them; the pity naturally awakened by so affecting\nan object,--everything, in short, conspired to arrest her flight. She\napproached the Prince. Her presence suspended his fury. He let fall\nhis sword at the feet of the Princess. Never was so much agitation,\nso much love, so much anguish, displayed in an interview that lasted\nbut a few minutes. No words can express the feelings of those wretched\nlovers during that brief period. Hebe, alarmed at finding herself in\nthe company of Atimir, almost, perhaps, in sight of the Prince of\nthe Peaceful Island, made a great effort to depart, and left him\nwith a command never to see her more. What an order for Atimir! But\nfor the recollection of the combat to which he had been challenged\nby the Prince of the Peaceful Island, he would have turned his sword\nan hundred times against his own breast; but he trusted to perish in\nrevenging himself on his rival.\n\nIn the meanwhile, the fair Hebe shut herself up in her own chamber,\nto avoid more surely the sight of Atimir. \"Relentless Fairy,\" she\ncried, \"thou didst only predict my death as the consequence of my again\nbeholding this unhappy Prince; but the tortures I suffer are a much\nmore dreadful penalty.\" Hebe sent her attendants to seek for the Prince\nof the Peaceful Island in the gardens, and throughout the Palace; but\nhe was nowhere to be found, and she became extremely anxious on his\naccount. They hunted for him all night long, but in vain, for he had\nconcealed himself in a little rustic building in the middle of the\nwood, to be more certain that no one could prevent his proceeding to\nthe spot fixed on for the combat. He was on the ground at sunrise, and\nAtimir arrived a few minutes afterwards. The two rivals, impatient\nfor revenge and victory, drew their swords. It was the first time the\nPrince of the Peaceful Island had wielded his in earnest, for war was\nunknown in his island.\n\nHe proved, however, not a less redoubtable antagonist on that account\nto Atimir. He had little skill, but much bravery, and great love. He\nfought like a man who set no value on his life, and Atimir worthily\nsustained in this combat the high reputation he had previously\nacquired. The Princes were animated by too many vindictive feelings\nfor their encounter not to terminate fatally. After having fought with\nequal advantage for a considerable period, they dealt each other at the\nsame instant so furious a blow, that both fell to the earth which was\nspeedily red with their blood.\n\nThe Prince of the Peaceful Island fainted with the loss of his; and\nAtimir, mortally wounded, uttered but the name of Hebe as he expired\nfor her sake.\n\nOne of the parties in search of the Prince of the Peaceful Island\narrived on the spot, and were horror-struck at the sight of this cruel\nspectacle.\n\nThe Princess Hebe, urged by her anxiety, had descended into the\ngardens. She hastened towards the place from whence she heard the\nexclamations of her people, who uttered in confusion the names of the\ntwo Princes, and beheld these fatal and affecting objects. She believed\nthe Prince of the Peaceful Island was dead as well as Atimir, and at\nthat moment there was little difference to be distinguished between\nthem. \"Precious lives,\" exclaimed Hebe, despairingly, after gazing for\nan instant on the unfortunate Princes,--\"precious lives, which have\nbeen sacrificed for me; I hasten to avenge you by the termination of my\nown!\" With these words she flung herself upon the fatal sword Atimir\nhad received from her hands, and buried the point in her bosom before\nher people, astonished at this dreadful scene, had power to prevent her.\n\nShe expired, and the Fairy Anguillette, moved by so much misery despite\nof all the obstacles her science had enabled her to raise, appeared\non the spot which had witnessed the destruction of these beautiful\nbeings. The Fairy upbraided Fate, and could not restrain her tears.\nThen hastening to succour the Prince of the Peaceful Island, who she\nknew was still breathing, she healed his wound, and transported him in\nan instant to his own island, where, by the miraculous power she had\nconferred on it, the Prince consoled himself for his loss, and forgot\nhis passion for Hebe.\n\nThe King and Queen, who had not the advantage of such assistance,\ngave themselves up entirely to their sorrow; and time only brought\nthem consolation. As to Ilerie, nothing could exceed her despair. She\nremained constant to her grief, and to the memory of the ungrateful\nAtimir.\n\nMeanwhile, Anguillette, having transported the Prince of the Peaceful\nIsland to his dominions, touched with her wand the sad remains of the\ncharming Atimir and the lovely Hebe. At the same instant they were\ntransformed into two trees of the most perfect beauty. The Fairy gave\nthem the name of _Charmes_,[9] to preserve for ever the remembrance of\nthe charms which had been so brilliantly displayed in the persons of\nthese unfortunate lovers.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[8] This compliment, so deservedly paid to the Countess\nd'Aulnoy, proves that this story was written after the production of\nthat lady's popular fairy tale entitled \"La Princesse Carpillon.\"\n\n[9] _Charmes_ is the French name for that species of elm\ncalled the yok elm.\n\n\n\n\nYOUNG AND HANDSOME.\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a potent Fairy, who endeavoured to resist\nthe power of Love; but the little god was more potent than the Fairy.\nHe touched her heart without even employing all his power. A handsome\nKnight arrived at the Court of the Fairy in search of adventures. He\nwas amiable, the son of a king, and had acquired renown by a thousand\nnoble achievements. His worth was known to the Fairy. Fame had wafted\nthe report of it even into her dominions.\n\nThe person of the young Prince corresponded so entirely with his high\nreputation, that the Fairy, moved by so many charms, accepted in a very\nshort time the proposals which the handsome Knight made to her. The\nFairy was beautiful, and he was sincerely in love with her. She married\nhim, and by that marriage made him the richest and most powerful King\nin the world. They lived a long time most happily together after their\nunion.\n\nThe Fairy grew old, and the King, her husband, although he kept pace\nwith her in years, ceased to love her as soon as her beauty had\ndeparted. He attached himself to some young beauties of his Court, and\nthe Fairy was tormented by a jealousy which proved fatal to several\nof her rivals. She had had but one daughter by her marriage with the\nhandsome Knight. She was the object of all her tenderness, and was\nworthy of the affection lavished on her.\n\nThe Fairies, who were her relations, had endowed her from her birth\nwith the finest intelligence, the sweetest beauty, and with graces\nstill more charming than beauty. Her dancing surpassed anything that\nhad ever been seen, and her voice subdued all hearts.\n\nHer form was perfect symmetry. Without being too tall, her appearance\nwas noble. Her hair was of the most beautiful black in the world. Her\nmouth small and exquisitely formed, her teeth of surprising whiteness.\nHer lovely eyes were black, sparkling, and expressive, and never did\nglances so piercing and yet so tender awaken love in the bosoms of all\nbeholders.\n\nThe Fairy had named her Young and Handsome. She had not as yet endowed\nher herself. She had postponed that favour in order to judge the\nbetter in process of time by what sort of benefit she could ensure the\nhappiness of a child that was so dear to her.\n\nThe King's inconstancies were an eternal source of affliction to the\nFairy. The misfortune of ceasing to be loved induced her to believe\nthat the most desirable of blessings was to be always lovely. And this,\nafter a thousand reflections, was the gift she bestowed on Young and\nHandsome. She was then just sixteen: and the Fairy employed all her\nscience in the formation of a spell which should enable the Princess to\nremain for ever exactly as she appeared at that moment. What greater\nbenefit could she bestow on Young and Handsome than the happiness of\nnever ceasing to be like herself? The Fairy lost the King, her husband,\nand although he had been long unfaithful to her, his death caused her\nsuch deep sorrow, that she resolved to abandon her empire, and to\nretire to a castle which she had built in a country quite a desert, and\nsurrounded by so vast a forest that the Fairy alone could find her way\nthrough it.\n\nThis resolution sadly afflicted Young and Handsome. She wished not to\nquit her mother; but the Fairy peremptorily commanded her to remain;\nand before she returned to her wilderness, she assembled in the most\nbeautiful palace in the world all the pleasures and sports she had long\nbanished, and composed from them a Court for Young and Handsome, who in\nthis agreeable company gradually consoled herself for the absence of\nthe Fairy.\n\nAll the Kings and Princes who considered themselves worthy of her (and\nin those days people flattered themselves much less than they do now)\ncame in crowds to the Court of Young and Handsome, and endeavoured by\ntheir attentions and their professions to win the heart of so lovely a\nPrincess.\n\nNever had anything equalled the magnificence and amusements of the\npalace of Young and Handsome. Each day was distinguished by some new\nentertainment. Everybody composing it was happy, except her lovers,\nwho adored her without hope. She looked with favour upon none; but\nthey saw her daily, and her most indifferent glances were sufficiently\nattractive to detain them there for ever.\n\nOne day Young and Handsome, content with the prosperity and popularity\nof her reign, wandered into a pleasant wood, followed only by some\nof her nymphs, the better to enjoy the charm of solitude. Absorbed\nby agreeable reflections, (what could she think of that would not be\nagreeable?) she emerged from the wood unconsciously, and walked towards\na charming meadow enamelled with thousands of flowers.\n\nHer beautiful eyes were occupied in contemplating a hundred various and\npleasing objects, when they lighted in turn on a flock of sheep which\nwas quietly feeding in the meadow on the bank of a little brook that\nmurmured sweetly as it rippled over the pebbles in its path. It was\novershadowed by a tuft of trees. A young shepherd, stretched on the\ngrass beside the rivulet, was calmly sleeping; his crook was leaning\nagainst a tree, and a pretty dog, which appeared to be more a favourite\nof its master than the guardian of his flock, lay close to the shepherd.\n\nYoung and Handsome approached the brook, and cast her eyes upon the\nyouth. What a beautiful vision! Cupid himself sleeping in the arms of\nPsyche did not display such charms.\n\nThe young Fairy stood gazing, and could not restrain some gestures\nof admiration, which were quickly succeeded by more tender emotions.\nThe handsome shepherd appeared to be about eighteen, of a commanding\nform; his brown hair, naturally curling, fell in wavy locks upon his\nshoulders, and was in perfect harmony with the most charming face in\nthe world. His eyes, closed in slumber, concealed from the Fairy,\nbeneath their lids, new fires reserved by Love to redouble her passion\nfor the shepherd.\n\nYoung and Handsome felt her heart agitated by an emotion to which it\nhad hitherto been a stranger, and it was no longer in her power to stir\nfrom the spot.\n\nFairies possess the same privilege as goddesses. They love a shepherd\nwhen he is loveable, just as if he were the greatest monarch in the\nuniverse. For all classes of mortals are equally beneath them.\n\nYoung and Handsome found too much pleasure in her new sensations to\nendeavour to combat them. She loved fondly, and from that moment only\nindulged in the happy idea of being loved in return. She did not dare\nto wake the handsome shepherd, for fear he should remark her agitation;\nand pleasing herself with the notion of discovering her love for him in\na gallant and agreeable manner. She rendered herself invisible to enjoy\nthe astonishment she was about to cause him.\n\nImmediately arose a strain of enchanting music. What an exquisite\nsymphony! It went straight to the heart. The delicious sound awoke\nAlidor (such was the name of the handsome shepherd), who for some\nmoments imagined he was in an agreeable dream; but what was his\nsurprise when, on rising from the grass on which he had been lying, he\nfound himself attired in the most tasteful and magnificent fashion.\nThe colours of his dress were yellow and grey, laced with silver.\nHis wallet was embroidered all over with the initials of Young and\nHandsome, and suspended by a band of flowers. His crook was of the most\nmarvellous workmanship, ornamented with precious stones of different\ncolours set in elegant devices. His hat was composed entirely of\njonquils and blue hyacinths most ingeniously woven together.\n\nDelighted and astonished at his new attire, he gazed at himself\nreflected in the neighbouring stream. Young and Handsome, meanwhile,\nfeared an hundred times for him the fate of the beautiful Narcissus.\n\nThe wonder of Alidor was still further increased at seeing his sheep\ncovered with silk whiter than snow, in lieu of their ordinary fleeces,\nand adorned with a thousand knots of ribbons of various colours.\n\nHis favourite ewe was more decorated than any of the others. She came\nskipping over the grass to him, appearing proud of her ornaments.\n\nThe shepherd's pretty dog had a golden collar, on which bands of small\nemeralds formed these four lines:--\n\n    Alas! how many fears and doubts alarm\n    The maiden who on love her hopes would rest;\n    A look, a word, her youthful heart may charm,\n    But constancy alone can make it blest.\n\nThe handsome shepherd judged by these verses that he was indebted to\nLove for his agreeable adventure. The sun, by this time, had set.\nAlidor, absorbed in a delightful reverie, bent his steps towards his\ncottage. He did not observe any change in its exterior, but he had\nscarcely crossed the threshold when a delicious fragrance announced to\nhim some agreeable novelty. He found the walls of his little hut hung\nwith a tissue of jasmine and orange flowers. The curtains of his bed\nwere of the same materials, looped up by garlands of pinks and roses.\nAn agreeable atmosphere kept all these flowers perfectly fresh and\nbeautiful.\n\nThe floor was of porcelain, on which were represented the stories of\nall the goddesses who had been in love with shepherds. Alidor observed\nthis;--he was very intelligent. The shepherds of that country were not\nordinary shepherds. Some of them were descended from Kings or great\nPrinces, and Alidor could trace his pedigree up to a Sovereign who had\nlong sat on the throne of those realms before they became a portion of\nthe dominions of the Fairies.\n\nUp to this period the handsome shepherd had been insensible to the\ncharms of Love; but he now began to feel, even without having as yet\ndistinguished the particular object, that his young heart burned to\nsurrender itself a prisoner. He was dying with impatience to become\nacquainted with the Goddess or Fairy who had bestowed upon him such\ntasteful and beautiful proofs of her affection. He paced his chamber\nwith a sweet anxiety which he had never before experienced. As night\nfell, an agreeable illumination appeared to shed a new daylight\nthroughout the cottage. The musings of Alidor were interrupted by\nthe sight of a rich and delicate banquet, which was served up to him\nby invisible hands. \"What!\" exclaimed the shepherd, smiling; \"still\nnew pleasures, and no one to partake them with me?\" His little dog\nattempted to play with him, but he was too much pre-occupied to\nencourage his gambols.\n\nAlidor seated himself at the table. A little Cupid appeared and\npresented him with wine in a cup made of one entire diamond. The\nshepherd made a tolerable supper for the hero of such adventures. He\nendeavoured to question the little Cupid; but, instead of answering,\nthe boy shot arrows at him, which, the moment they struck, became drops\nof exquisitely scented water. Alidor comprehended clearly by this sport\nthat the little Cupid was forbidden to explain the mystery. The table\ndisappeared as soon as Alidor had ceased eating, and the little Cupid\nflew away.\n\nA charming symphony stole upon the ear, awaking a thousand tender\nsensations in the heart of the young shepherd. His impatience to\nlearn to whom he was indebted for all these pleasures increased every\ninstant, and it was with great joy he heard a voice sing the following\nwords:--\n\n    Under what form, Love, wilt thou cast thy dart\n    At the young shepherd who enthrals my heart?\n    Once should he know he is the master there,\n    Will he my form and face account less fair?\n    Of my affection he will be too sure,\n    But that may not his love for me secure.\n    With greater power to charm, my smiles endue,\n    I need no aid to make me fond or true.\n\n\"Appear, thou charming being!\" exclaimed the shepherd; \"and by your\npresence crown my happiness. I believe you to be too beautiful to fear\nthat I should ever be faithless.\"\n\nNo answer was returned to this adjuration. The music ceased shortly\nafterwards; a profound silence reigned in the cottage and invited the\nshepherd to sweet repose. He threw himself on his bed, but it was some\ntime before he could sleep, agitated as he was by his curiosity and his\nnew-born passion.\n\nThe song of the birds awoke him at daybreak. He quitted his cottage and\nled his pretty flock to the same spot where the preceding day his good\nfortune had commenced. Scarcely had he seated himself beside the brook,\nwhen a canopy, composed of a most brilliant stuff of flame-colour and\ngold was attached to the branches of the nearest trees to shelter\nAlidor from the rays of the sun. Some young shepherds and pretty\nshepherdesses of the neighbourhood arrived at the spot. They were in\nsearch of Alidor. His canopy, his flock, and his dress excited in them\ngreat astonishment.\n\nThey advanced hastily, and eagerly asked him the origin of all these\nmarvels. Alidor smiled at their surprise, and recounted to them what\nhad occurred to him. More than one shepherd felt jealous, and more\nthan one shepherdess reddened with mortification. There were few of the\nlatter in those parts who had not had designs upon the heart of the\nhandsome shepherd, and a goddess or a fairy appeared to them by far too\ndangerous a rival.\n\nYoung and Handsome, who rarely lost sight of her shepherd, endured with\nconsiderable impatience the conversation of the shepherdesses. Some\namongst them were very charming, and one so lovely that she might be a\nformidable rival even to a goddess.\n\nThe indifference with which Alidor treated them all re-assured the\nyoung Fairy. The shepherdesses quitted Alidor reluctantly, and led\ntheir flocks further into the meadow.\n\nShortly after they had departed, leaving only a few shepherds with\nAlidor, a delicious banquet appeared, set out upon a marble table.\nSeats of green turf arose around it, and Alidor invited his friends,\nthe shepherds who had come to join him, to share his repast. On seating\nthemselves at the table, they discovered that they were all attired in\nhandsome dresses, though less magnificent than that of Alidor, which at\nthe same moment became dazzling with jewels.\n\nThe neighbouring echoes were suddenly awakened by rustic, but graceful,\nmusic, and a voice was heard singing the following words:--\n\n    Of Alidor, envy the pleasure supreme,\n    He only could love to this bosom impart;\n    Ye shepherds, who beauty and worth can esteem,\n    Do honour to him as the choice of my heart.\n\nThe astonishment of the shepherds increased every moment. A troop of\nyoung shepherdesses approached the banks of the rivulet. The melody of\nthe music was not so much the attraction which led them to this spot,\nas the desire to see Alidor. They began to dance beneath the trees,\nforming an agreeable little _bal-champ\u00eatre_.\n\nThe young Fairy, who was present all the time, but invisible, assumed\nin an instant, with six of her nymphs, the prettiest shepherdesses'\ndresses that had ever been seen. Their only ornaments were garlands of\nflowers. Their crooks were adorned with them, and Young and Handsome,\nwith a simple wreath of jonquils, which produced a charming effect in\nher beautiful black hair, appeared the most enchanting person in the\nworld. The arrival of these fair shepherdesses surprised the whole\ncompany. All the beauties of the district felt mortified. There was not\na shepherd who did not eagerly exert himself to do the honours of the\n_f\u00eate_ to the new-comers.\n\nYoung and Handsome, though unknown to them as a Fairy, did not receive\nless respect or attract less attention. The sincerest homage is always\npaid to beauty. Young and Handsome felt flattered by the effect of her\ncharms unaided by the knowledge of her dignity.\n\nAs to Alidor, the instant she appeared amongst them, forgetting that\nthe love which a goddess or a fairy bore to him bound him to avoid\nanything that might be displeasing to her, he flew towards Young\nand Handsome, and accosting her with the most graceful air in the\nworld:--\"Come, beautiful shepherdess,\" said he, \"come and occupy a\nplace more worthy of you. So exquisite a person is too superior to\nall other beauties to remain mingled with them.\" He offered his hand,\nand Young and Handsome, delighted with the sentiments which the sight\nof her had begun to awaken in the breast of her shepherd, allowed\nherself to be led by Alidor beneath the canopy which had been attached\nto the trees as soon as he had arrived at the spot that morning. A\ntroop of young shepherds brought, by his orders, bundles of flowers\nand branches, and constructed with them a little throne, on which\nthey seated Young and Handsome. Alidor laid himself at her feet. Her\nnymphs seated themselves near her, and the rest of the party formed a\nlarge circle, in which everybody took their places according to their\ninclinations.\n\nThis spot, adorned with so much beauty, presented the most agreeable\nspectacle in the world. The murmur of the brook mingled with the music,\nand it seemed as if all the birds in the neighbourhood had assembled\nthere to take their parts in the concert. A great number of shepherds\nadvanced, in separate groups, to pay their court to Young and Handsome.\nOne amongst them, named Iphis, approaching the young Fairy, said to\nher, \"However distinguished may be the place Alidor has induced you\nto accept, it is one, perhaps, very dangerous to occupy.\" \"I believe\nso,\" answered the Fairy, with a smile that had power to captivate all\nhearts. \"The shepherdesses of this village will find it difficult\nto forgive me the preference which Alidor appears to have accorded\nto me amongst so many beauties more deserving of it.\" \"No,\" rejoined\nIphis; \"our shepherdesses will be more just; but Alidor is beloved\nby a goddess.\" And thereupon Iphis related to Young and Handsome the\nadventure which had befallen the beautiful shepherd. When he had\nfinished his story, the young Fairy, turning towards Alidor with a\ngracious air, said to him, \"I do not desire to provoke so terrible an\nenemy as the goddess by whom you are beloved. Evidently she did not\nintend me to occupy this position, and therefore I resign it to her.\"\n\nShe rose as she said these words, but Alidor, gazing fondly upon her,\nexclaimed, \"Stay, lovely shepherdess; there is no goddess whose love\nI would not sacrifice for the delight of adoring you; and she of whom\nIphis speaks is not over wise, at least in matters of the heart,\nsince she has permitted me to behold you!\" Young and Handsome could\nnot make any reply to Alidor. The shepherds at that moment came to\nrequest her to dance, and never was more grace displayed than on this\noccasion. Alidor was her partner, who surpassed himself. Never had the\nmost magnificent _f\u00eates_ at the Court of Young and Handsome afforded\nher so much pleasure as this rural entertainment. Love embellishes\nevery spot in which we behold the object of our affections. Alidor\nfelt his passion increasing every instant, and made a thousand vows\nto sacrifice all the goddesses and fairies in the world to the ardent\nlove with which his shepherdess had inspired him. Young and Handsome\nwas delighted with the evident attachment of the beautiful shepherd;\nbut she wished to make a momentary trial of his affection. Iphis was\namiable, and, if Alidor had not been present, would no doubt have\nbeen much admired. The young Fairy spoke to him twice or thrice very\ngraciously, and danced several times with him.\n\nAlidor burned with a jealousy as intense as his love. Young and\nHandsome observed it, and feeling more sure of her shepherd's heart,\nshe ceased paining it, spoke no more to Iphis during the rest of the\nday, and bestowed on Alidor her most encouraging glances. Heavens! what\nglances! they would have filled the most insensible hearts with love.\n\nEvening having arrived, the lovely company separated with regret.\nA thousand sighs followed Young and Handsome, who forbade any of\nthe shepherds to accompany her; but she promised Alidor, in a few\nbrief words, that he should see her again in the meadows the next\nmorning. She departed, followed by her nymphs and watched by the\nshepherds, who were in hopes that, by following her at a distance,\nthey might discover, without her perceiving them, the village to\nwhich these divine beings belonged; but the moment that Young and\nHandsome had entered a little wood which concealed her from the sight\nof the shepherds, she rendered herself and her nymphs invisible, and\nthey amused themselves for some time in seeing the shepherds vainly\nendeavouring to trace the road they had taken. Young and Handsome\nobserved with pleasure that Alidor was amongst the most eager of the\nparty.\n\nIphis was in despair that he had not followed them closely enough, and\nseveral of the shepherds, who had been captivated by the nymphs, passed\nhalf of the night in hunting the woods and the neighbourhood. Some\nauthors have asserted that the nymphs, following the example of the\nyoung Fairy, thought some of these shepherds more charming than all the\nkings they had ever seen in their lives.\n\nYoung and Handsome returned to her palace, and, although a Fairy,\nalways occupied by a thousand different affairs, might absent herself\nwithout causing much surprise, she found all her lovers exceedingly\nuneasy at not having seen her the whole day, but not one of them\nventured to reproach her for it. It was necessary to be a very\nsubmissive and respectful suitor in the palace of Young and Handsome,\nor she would speedily issue an order for him to quit her Court. Her\nadmirers did not even dare to speak to her of their passion. It was\nonly by their attentions, their respect, and their constancy, that they\ncould hope eventually to touch her heart.\n\nYoung and Handsome appeared little interested in what was passing\naround. She ate scarcely any supper, fell into frequent fits of musing,\nand the princes, her lovers, attentive to all her actions, imagined\nthat they heard her sigh several times. She dismissed all the Court\nvery early, and retired to her apartments.\n\nWhen one is looking forward to a meeting with those we love, everything\nthat presents itself in the interim appears very poor and very\ntroublesome.\n\nThe young Fairy, with the nymphs who had followed her all the day,\nconcealed in a cloud, were transported in an instant to the hut of the\nhandsome shepherd. He had returned to it, very much vexed at not being\nable to ascertain the road his divine shepherdess had taken. Everything\nin his cottage was as charming as when he had left it; but as in musing\nhe cast his eyes upon the floor of his little chamber, he perceived\na change in it. In lieu of paintings from the stories of goddesses\nwho had been in love with shepherds, he perceived the subjects were\ncomposed of terrible examples of unfortunate lovers who had proved\nunworthy of the affection of those divinities.\n\n\"You are right,\" exclaimed the handsome shepherd, on observing these\nlittle pictures; \"you are right, Goddess. I deserve your anger; but\nwherefore did you permit so lovely a shepherdess to present herself to\nmy sight? Alas! what divinity could defend a heart from the effects of\nsuch charms!\" Young and Handsome had arrived in the cottage when Alidor\nuttered these words. She felt all the tenderness of them, and her\naffection was redoubled by them.\n\nAs on the previous day, a magnificent repast appeared, but Alidor did\nnot enjoy it as he did the first. He was in love, and even a little\njealous; for it often recurred to him that his shepherdess had spoken\nwith some interest to Iphis. The promise, however, that she had made\nhim, that he should see her the next day in the meadow, soothed a\nlittle his vexation.\n\nThe little Cupid waited on him during his repast, but Alidor, occupied\nby his new anxiety, spoke not a word to him. The table disappeared,\nand the child, approaching Alidor, presented him with two magnificent\nminiature cases, and then flew away.\n\nThe handsome shepherd opened one of the cases hastily. It contained the\nportrait of a young female of such perfect beauty, that imagination can\nscarcely conceive it. Under this marvellous miniature was written, in\nletters of gold--\n\n \"Thy happiness depends on her affection.\"\n\n\"One must have seen my shepherdess,\" said Alidor, gazing on this\nbeautiful portrait, \"not to be enchanted by so lovely a person.\" He\nclosed the case, and flung it carelessly on a table.\n\nHe then opened the other case which the little Cupid had given to him;\nbut what was his astonishment at the sight of the portrait of his\nshepherdess, resplendent with all the charms that had made so lively an\nimpression on his heart!\n\nShe was painted as he had seen her that very day--her hair dressed\nwith flowers, and the little that appeared of her dress was that of\na shepherdess. The handsome shepherd was so transported with his\nlove, that he gazed on it for a long time without perceiving that the\nfollowing words were written beneath the portrait:--\n\n \"Forget her attractions, or thy love will be fatal to thee.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" exclaimed Alidor, \"without her could there be any happiness?\"\nThis ecstasy delighted Young and Handsome. The beautiful face he had\ncontemplated unmoved was only a fancy portrait. The young Fairy was\ndesirous of ascertaining whether her shepherd would prefer her to so\nbeautiful a person, and who appeared to be a goddess or a fairy.\n\nConvinced of the love of Alidor, she returned to her palace, after\nhaving assembled her nymphs by a signal that had been agreed upon. It\nwas the illumination of the sky by some harmless lightning, and since\nthat time such is often to be seen on a summer evening, unaccompanied\nby thunder. The nymphs rejoined her: they had also desired to hear\nsomething more of their lovers. Some of them were sufficiently pleased.\nThey had found their swains occupied with recollections of them, and\nspeaking of them with ardour, but others were less satisfied with the\neffect of their beauty. They found their shepherds fast asleep. A man\nmay sometimes appear very much in love during the day, who is not\nsufficiently so for his passion to keep him awake all night.\n\nThe young Fairy retired to rest as soon as she arrived at her palace,\ncharmed with the sincere affection of her shepherd. She had no other\nanxiety than the agreeable one arising from her impatience to see him\nagain. As to Alidor, he slept a little, and without alarming himself at\nthe warnings which he had read beneath the two miniatures. He thought\nonly of returning to the meadow: he hoped to see his shepherdess there\nduring the day. It seemed to him that he could not get there soon\nenough.\n\nHe led his charming flock to the fortunate spot where he had seen Young\nand Handsome; his pretty dog took good care of it. The comely shepherd\ncould think of nothing but his shepherdess.\n\nYoung and Handsome was, much against her will, occupied that morning\nreceiving the ambassadors of several neighbouring monarchs. Never were\naudiences so short; yet, notwithstanding, a considerable portion of the\nday passed in the performance of these tiresome ceremonies. The young\nFairy suffered as much as her shepherd, whose keen impatience caused\nhim a thousand torments.\n\nThe sun had set. Alidor had no longer any hope of seeing his\nshepherdess that day. How great was his grief!\n\nHe deplored his fate. He sighed incessantly. He made verses on her\nabsence, and with the ferrule of his crook engraved them on the trunk\nof a young elm.\n\n    You on whom Venus looks with envious eyes,\n    While round your steps her truant Graces play,--\n    You on whose glances Cupid so relies\n    That he has thrown all other darts away;\n    How wretched in your absence must I be\n    Who prize you ev'ry earthly bliss above!--\n    And yet my sorrow has a charm for me,\n    Its gloom is but the shadow of my love.\n\nAs he finished carving these lines, Young and Handsome appeared\nin the meadow at a distance, with her nymphs all still attired as\nshepherdesses. Alidor recognised her a long way off. He ran--he flew\ntowards Young and Handsome, who received him with a smile so charming,\nthat it would have increased the felicity of the gods themselves.\n\nHe told his love to her with an ardour capable of persuading a heart\nless tenderly inclined towards him than that of the young Fairy. She\ndesired to see what he had carved on the tree, and was charmed with\nthe talent and affection of her shepherd. He related to her all that\nhappened to him the preceding evening, and offered a thousand times to\nfollow her to the end of the world to fly from the love which a goddess\nor a fairy had unfortunately conceived for him. \"My loss would be too\ngreat should you fly from that fairy,\" replied Young and Handsome, in\nher sweetest manner. \"It is no longer necessary for me to disguise my\nsentiments from you, as I am convinced of the sincerity of yours. It\nis I, Alidor!\" continued the charming Fairy--\"It is I who have given\nyou these proofs of an affection which, if you continue faithful to me,\nwill ensure your happiness and mine for ever!\"\n\nThe handsome shepherd, transported with love and joy, flung himself at\nher feet, his silence appeared more eloquent to the young Fairy than\nthe most finished oration. She bade him rise, and he found himself\nsuperbly attired. The Fairy then touching the ground with her crook,\nthere appeared a magnificent car, drawn by twelve white horses of\nsurpassing beauty. They were harnessed four abreast. Young and Handsome\nstepped into the car, and caused the comely shepherd to take his seat\nbeside her. Her nymphs found room in it also, and as soon as they had\nall taken their places, the beautiful horses, who had no occasion for\na driver to intimate to them the intentions of their mistress, swiftly\nconveyed the whole party to a favourite ch\u00e2teau belonging to the young\nFairy. She had adorned it with everything that her art could furnish\nher with in the way of wonders. It was called the Castle of Flowers,\nand was the most charming residence in the world.\n\nThe young Fairy and her happy lover arrived with the attendant nymphs\nin a spacious court-yard, the walls of which were formed out of thick\nhedges of jasmines and lemon-trees. They were only breast-high. Beneath\nthem ran a lovely river, which encompassed the court-yard; beyond it a\ncharming grove, and then fields stretching as far as the eye could see,\nthrough which the said river made a thousand windings, as unwilling to\nquit so beautiful a home.\n\nThe castle was more to be admired for its architecture than for its\nsize. It contained twelve apartments, each of which had its peculiar\nbeauty. They were very spacious; but there was not room enough in them\nfor the residence of Young and Handsome, and all her Court, which was\nthe most numerous and magnificent in the universe. The young Fairy used\nthis castle but as a place of retreat. She was accompanied thither\ngenerally by only her most favourite nymphs and the officers of her\nhousehold.\n\nShe led the shepherd into the Myrtle Room. All the furniture was made\nof myrtles in continual blossom, interlaced with an art that displayed\nthe power and good taste of the young Fairy, even in the most simple\nthings. All the rooms in the castle were furnished in the same manner,\nwith flowers only. The air breathed in them was always fragrant and\npure.\n\nYoung and Handsome, by her power, had banished for ever from the spot\nthe rigours of winter, and if the heats of summer were ever permitted\nto penetrate these agreeable bowers, it was only to render more\nenjoyable the beautiful baths attached to the building, which were\ndelicious.\n\nThe apartment was of white and blue porphyry, exquisitely sculptured;\nthe baths being of the most curious and agreeable forms. That in which\nYoung and Handsome bathed, was made out of a single topaz, and placed\non a platform in an alcove of porcelain. Four columns, composed of\namethysts of the most perfect beauty, supported a canopy of magnificent\nyellow and silver brocade, embroidered with pearls. Alidor, absorbed\nby the happiness of beholding the charming Fairy, and remarking her\naffection for him, scarcely noticed all these marvels.\n\nA delightful and tender conversation detained these happy lovers for\na long time in the Myrtle Room. A splendid supper was served in the\nJonquil Saloon. An elegant entertainment followed. The nymphs acted to\nmusic the loves of Diana and Endymion.\n\nYoung and Handsome forgot to return to her palace, and passed the\nnight in the Narcissus Chamber. Alidor, entranced with love, was long\nbefore he tasted the sweets of slumber in the Myrtle Room, to which he\nwas conducted by the nymphs, on the termination of the entertainment.\nYoung and Handsome, who forbore to use her power to calm such agreeable\nemotions, also laid awake till nearly daybreak.\n\nAlidor, impatient to behold again the charming Fairy, awaited the happy\nmoment for some time in the Jonquil Saloon. He had neglected nothing\nin his attire which could add a grace to his natural attractions.\nYoung and Handsome appeared a thousand times more lovely than Venus.\nShe passed a part of the day with Alidor and the nymphs in the garden\nof the castle, the beauties of which surpassed the most marvellous\ndescription. There was an agreeable little _f\u00eate champ\u00eatre_ in a\ndelicious grove, wherein Alidor, during a favourable opportunity, had\nthe sweet pleasure of professing his ardent love to Young and Handsome.\n\nShe desired, that same evening, to return to her palace; but promised\nAlidor to come back to him the next day. Never has an absence of a\nfew hours been honoured by so many regrets. The handsome shepherd\npassionately desired to follow the young Fairy, but she commanded him\nto remain in the Castle of Flowers. She wished to hide her attachment\nfrom the eyes of all her Court. No one entered this castle without her\norder, and she had no fear that her nymphs would disclose her secret.\nThe secrets of a Fairy are always safe. They are never divulged; the\npunishment would follow the offence too swiftly.\n\nYoung and Handsome asked Alidor for the pretty dog which had always\nfollowed him, that she might take it with her. Everything is dear to us\nthat pleases those we love.\n\nAfter the departure of the young Fairy, the shepherd, to indulge in\nhis anxiety, rather than to dissipate it, plunged deeper into the\nwoods to muse on his adorable mistress. In a little meadow, enamelled\nwith flowers, and watered by an agreeable spring, which arose near the\nmiddle of the wood, he perceived his flock gambolling in the grass. It\nwas watched by six young female slaves, with handsome features, dressed\nin blue and gold, with golden chains and collars. His favourite sheep\nrecognised her master and ran to him. Alidor caressed her, and was\ndeeply touched by the attentions of Young and Handsome to everything\nwhich concerned him.\n\nThe young slaves showed Alidor their hut. It was not far from the spot,\nat the end of a beautiful and very shady alley. This little dwelling\nwas built of cedar. The initials of Young and Handsome and Alidor\nentwined together, appeared in every part of it, formed with the rarest\nwoods. The following inscription was written in letters of gold upon a\nlarge turquoise:--\n\n    Let the flock of him I love\n    In these meads for ever rove.\n    By that Shepherd loved, the lot\n    Of the Gods I envy not.\n\nThe handsome shepherd returned to the Castle of Flowers, enchanted by\nthe kindness of the young Fairy. He declined any entertainment that\nevening. When absent from those we love, what care we for amusements!\n\nYoung and Handsome returned the next day, as she had promised, to her\nhappy lover. What joy was theirs to behold each other again! All the\npower of the young Fairy had never procured for her so much felicity.\n\nShe passed nearly all her time at the Castle of Flowers, and rarely now\nappeared at Court. In vain did the princes, her suitors, grieve almost\nto death at her absence, everything was sacrificed to the fortunate\nAlidor.\n\nBut could so sweet a happiness last long untroubled? Another Fairy,\nbesides Young and Handsome, had seen the beautiful shepherd, and felt\nher heart also touched by his charms.\n\nOne evening that Young and Handsome had gone to show herself for\na few moments to her Court, Alidor, engrossed by his passion, sat\ndeeply musing in the Jonquil Saloon, when his attention was awakened\nby a slight noise at one of the windows, and on looking towards it he\nperceived a brilliant light, and the next moment he saw on a table,\nnear which he was seated, a little creature about half a yard high,\nvery old, with hair whiter than snow, a standing collar, and an\nold-fashioned farthingale. \"I am the Fairy Mordicante,\" said she to\nthe handsome shepherd; \"and I come to announce to thee a much greater\nhappiness than that of being beloved by Young and Handsome.\" \"What can\nthat be?\" inquired Alidor, with a contemptuous air. \"The gods have none\nmore perfect for themselves!\" \"It is that of pleasing me,\" replied the\nold Fairy, haughtily. \"I love thee, and my power is far greater than\nthat of Young and Handsome, and almost equals that of the Gods. Abandon\nthat young Fairy for me. I will revenge thee on thine enemies, and on\nall whom thou wouldst injure.\"\n\n\"Thy favours are useless to me,\" answered the young shepherd, with a\nsmile; \"I have no enemies, and I would injure no one; I am too well\nsatisfied with my own lot; and if the charming Fairy I adore were but a\nsimple shepherdess, I could be as happy with her in a cottage as I am\nnow in the loveliest palace in the world.\" At these words the wicked\nFairy became suddenly as tall and as large as she had hitherto been\ndiminutive, and disappeared making a horrible noise.\n\nThe next morning, Young and Handsome returned to the Castle of Flowers.\nAlidor related his adventure. They both knew the Fairy Mordicante.\nShe was very aged, had always been ugly, and exceedingly susceptible.\nYoung and Handsome and her happy lover made a thousand jokes upon her\npassion, and never for a moment felt the least uneasiness as to the\nconsequences of her fury.\n\nCan one be a happy lover and think of future misfortunes?\n\nA week afterwards, Young and Handsome and the lovely shepherd took an\nexcursion in a fine barge, gilt all over, on the beautiful river which\nencircled the Castle of Flowers, followed by all their little Court\nin the prettiest boats in the world. The barge of Young and Handsome\nwas shaded by a canopy formed of a light blue and silver tissue. The\ndresses of the rowers were of the same material. Other small boats,\nfilled with excellent musicians, accompanied the happy lovers, and\nperformed some agreeable airs. Alidor, more enamoured than ever, could\ngaze on nothing but Young and Handsome, whose beauty appeared that day\nmore charming than can be described.\n\nIn the midst of their enjoyment they saw twelve Syrens rise out of the\nwater, and a moment afterwards twelve Tritons appeared, and joining the\nSyrens, encircled with them the little barque of Young and Handsome.\nThe Tritons played some extraordinary airs on their shells, and the\nSyrens sang some graceful melodies, which for a while entertained the\nyoung Fairy and the beautiful shepherd. Young and Handsome, who was\naccustomed to wonders, imagined that it was some pageant which had\nbeen prepared by those whose duty it was to contribute to her pleasure\nby inventing new entertainments; but all on a sudden these perfidious\nTritons and Syrens, laying hold of the young Fairy's boat, dragged it\nunder water.\n\nThe only danger which Alidor feared was that which threatened the\nyoung Fairy. He attempted to swim to her, but the Tritons carried him\noff despite his resistance, and Young and Handsome, borne away by the\nSyrens in the meanwhile, was transported into her palace.\n\nOne Fairy having no power over another, the jealous Mordicante was\ncompelled to limit her vengeance to the making Young and Handsome\nendure all the misery so cruel a bereavement would necessarily\noccasion. In the meanwhile Alidor was conveyed by the Tritons to a\nterrible castle guarded by winged dragons. It was there that Mordicante\nhad determined to make herself beloved by the beautiful shepherd,\nor to be revenged on him for his disdain. He was placed in a very\ndark chamber. Mordicante, blazing with the most beautiful jewels in\nthe world, appeared to him, and professed her affection for him. The\nshepherd, exasperated at being torn from Young and Handsome, treated\nthe wicked Fairy with all the contempt she deserved. What could equal\nthe rage of Mordicante? But her love was still too violent to permit\nher to destroy the object of it. After detaining Alidor several days\nin this frightful prison, she resolved to endeavour to conquer the\nfaithful shepherd by new artifices. She transported him suddenly to\na magnificent palace. He was served with a sumptuousness which had\nnot been exceeded in the Castle of Flowers. Endeavours were made to\ndissipate his grief by a thousand agreeable entertainments, and the\nmost beautiful nymphs in the universe, who composed his Court, appeared\nto dispute with each other the honour of pleasing him. Not a word more\nwas said to him respecting the passion of the wicked Fairy; but the\nfaithful shepherd languished in the midst of luxury, and was in no less\ndespair at his separation from Young and Handsome, when witnessing the\ngayest entertainments, than he had been whilst immured in his dreadful\nprison.\n\nMordicante trusted, however, that the absence of Young and Handsome,\nthe continual round of pleasures provided for Alidor's amusement, and\nthe presence of so many charming women, would at length overcome the\nfidelity of the shepherd; and her object in surrounding him with so\nmany beautiful nymphs, was but to take herself the figure of the one\nwhich might most attract his attention. With this view, she mingled\namongst them in disguise, sometimes appearing as the most charming\nbrunette, and at others as the fairest beauty in the universe.\n\nLove, who is all-powerful in human hearts, had subdued for a time her\nnatural cruelty; but desperation at being unable to shake the constancy\nof Alidor re-awakened her fury so powerfully, that she determined to\ndestroy the charming shepherd, and make him the victim of the faithful\nlove he cherished for Young and Handsome. One day, without being\nseen, she was watching him in a beautiful gallery, the windows of\nwhich opened upon the sea; Alidor, leaning over a balustrade, mused in\nsilence for a considerable time. But, at length, after a heavy sigh, he\nuttered such tender and touching lamentations, depicting so vividly his\npassion for the young Fairy, that Mordicante, transported with fury,\nappeared to him in her natural shape; and, after having loaded him with\nreproaches, caused him to be carried back to his prison, and announced\nto him that in three days he should be sacrificed to her hatred, and\nthat the most cruel tortures should avenge her slighted affection.\n\nAlidor regretted not the loss of a life which had become insupportable\nto him, deprived of Young and Handsome; and satisfied that he had\nnothing to fear on her account from the wrath of Mordicante, the power\nof the young Fairy being equal to hers, he calmly awaited the death he\nhad been doomed to.\n\nIn the meanwhile, Young and Handsome, as faithful as her shepherd,\nmourned over his loss. The Syrens who had wafted her back to her palace\nhad disappeared as soon as their task was accomplished, and the young\nFairy was convinced that it was the cruel Mordicante who had bereft her\nof Alidor. The excess of her grief proclaimed at the same time to all\nher Court, her love for the young shepherd, and her loss of him.\n\nHow many monarchs were envious of the misery even into which the wicked\nFairy had precipitated Alidor? What vexation for these enamoured\nprinces to learn that they had a beloved rival, and to behold Young and\nHandsome occupied only in weeping for this fortunate mortal! His loss,\nhowever, revived their hopes. They had discovered at last that Young\nand Handsome could feel as well as inspire affection. They redoubled\ntheir attentions. Each flattered himself with the sweet hope to occupy\nsome day the place of that fortunate lover; but Young and Handsome,\ninconsolable for the absence of Alidor, and worried by the advances of\nhis rivals, abandoned her Court, and retired to the Castle of Flowers.\nThe sight of those charming scenes, where everything recalled to her\nheart the recollection of the lovely shepherd, increased her melancholy\nand her affection.\n\nOne day, as she was walking in her beautiful gardens, and gazing on\nthe various objects with which they were adorned, she exclaimed aloud,\n\"Alas! ye were formerly my delight; but I am now too much absorbed\nby my sorrow to take any further interest in your embellishment.\"\nAs she ceased speaking, she heard the murmur of a gentle breeze\nthat, agitating the flowers of this beautiful garden, arranged them\ninstantaneously in various forms. First, they represented the initials\nof Young and Handsome; then those of another name, which she was not\nacquainted with; and a moment afterwards, they formed distinctly entire\nwords, and Young and Handsome, astonished at this novelty, read these\nverses, written in so singular a fashion:--\n\n    Bid fond Zephyr tend thy bowers,\n    At his breath awake the flowers.\n    Thus for Flora, every morn,\n    Doth he mead and grove adorn.\n    How much more his pride 'twould be,\n    Fairer Nymph, to sigh for thee!\n\nYoung and Handsome was pondering on these verses, when she saw the\nDeity named in them appear in the air, and hasten to declare his\npassion to her. He was in a little car of roses, drawn by a hundred\nwhite canary birds, harnessed ten and ten, with strings of pearl. The\ncar approached the earth, and Zephyr descended from it close to the\nyoung Fairy. He addressed her with all the eloquence of a very charming\nand very gallant Divinity; but the young Fairy, in lieu of feeling\nflattered by so brilliant a conquest, replied to him like a faithful\nlover. Zephyr was not disheartened by the coldness of Young and\nHandsome. He hoped to soften her by his attentions. He paid his court\nto her most assiduously, and neglected nothing that he thought could\nplease her.\n\nThe glory of Alidor was now complete. He had a God for his rival, and\nwas preferred to him by Young and Handsome.\n\nNevertheless, this fortunate mortal was on the point of being destroyed\nby the fury of Mordicante. A year had nearly elapsed since the young\nFairy and the beautiful shepherd had been torn from each other, when\nZephyr, who had given up all hopes of shaking the constancy of Young\nand Handsome, and was moved by the tears which he saw her unceasingly\nshed for the loss of Alidor, exclaimed one day, on finding her more\ndepressed than usual, \"Since it is no longer possible for me to\nflatter myself, charming Fairy, that I shall ever have the good fortune\nto gain your affections, I am desirous of contributing at least to your\nfelicity. What can I do to make you happy?\"\n\n  [Illustration: Young and Handsome.--P. 128.]\n\n\"To make me happy,\" replied Young and Handsome, with a look so full of\ntenderness that it was enough to revive all the love of Zephyr, \"you\nmust restore to me my Alidor. I am powerless against another Fairy,\nbut you, Zephyr, you are a God, and can destroy all the spells of my\ncruel rival!\" \"I will endeavour,\" rejoined Zephyr, \"to subdue the\ntender sentiments you have inspired me with sufficiently to enable me\nto render you an agreeable service.\" So saying, he flew away, leaving\nYoung and Handsome to indulge in a sweet hope. Zephyr did not deceive\nher. He was not in the habit of loving for any length of time, without\nthe certainty of eventual success; and it was evident to him that the\nyoung Fairy was too constant for him to hope that he could ever make\nher forget Alidor; he therefore flew to the horrible prison where the\nbeautiful shepherd awaited nothing less than death. An impetuous wind,\nswelled by six northern breezes, that had accompanied Zephyr, blew open\nin an instant the gates of the dungeon, and the beautiful shepherd,\nenveloped in a very brilliant cloud, was wafted to the Castle of\nFlowers.\n\nZephyr, after he had seen Alidor, was less surprised at the constancy\nof Young and Handsome; but he did not make himself visible to the\nshepherd until he had restored him to the charming Fairy.\n\nWho could describe the perfect joy of Alidor and Young and Handsome at\nseeing each other once more? How lovely each appeared, and how fondly\nwas each beloved! What thanks did not these fortunate lovers render\nto the Deity who had secured their happiness. He left them shortly\nafterwards to return to Flora.\n\nYoung and Handsome was anxious that all her Court should share in her\nfelicity. They celebrated it by a thousand festivities throughout her\nempire, despite the vexation of the princes, her less fortunate lovers,\nwho were the spectators of the triumphs of the beautiful shepherd.\n\nIn order to have nothing more to fear for Alidor from the wrath of\nMordicante, Young and Handsome taught him the Fairy Art, and presented\nhim with the gift of continual youth. Having thus provided for his\nhappiness, she next considered his glory. She gave him the Castle of\nFlowers, and caused him to be acknowledged king of that beautiful\ncountry, over which his ancestors had formerly reigned. Alidor became\nthe greatest monarch in the universe, on the same spot where he had\nbeen the most charming shepherd. He loaded all his old friends with\nfavours; and, retaining for ever his charms, as well as Young and\nHandsome, we are assured that they loved each other eternally, and that\nHymen would not disturb a passion which formed the happiness of their\nexistence.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PALACE OF REVENGE.\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a King and Queen of Iceland, who, after twenty\nyears of married life, had a daughter. Her birth gave them the greatest\npleasure, as they had so long despaired of having children to succeed\nto their throne. The young Princess was named Imis; her dawning charms\npromised from her infancy all the wonderful beauty which shone with so\nmuch brilliancy when she arrived at a maturer age.\n\nNo one in the universe would have been worthy of her had not Cupid,\nwho thought it a point of honour to subject to his empire, some day,\nso marvellous a person, taken care to cause a Prince to be born in the\nsame Court equally charming with that lovely Princess. He was called\nPhilax, and was the son of a brother of the King of Iceland. He was two\nyears older than the Princess, and they were brought up together with\nall the freedom natural to childhood and near relationship. The first\nsensations of their hearts were mutual admiration and affection. They\ncould see nothing so beautiful as themselves, consequently they found\nno attraction in the world that could interfere with the passion each\nfelt for the other, even without yet knowing its name.\n\nThe King and Queen saw this dawning affection with pleasure. They loved\nyoung Philax. He was a Prince of their blood, and no child had ever\nawakened fairer hopes. Everything seemed to favour the designs of Cupid\nto render Prince Philax some day the happiest of men. The Princess was\nabout twelve years old when the Queen, who was exceedingly fond of\nher, desired to have her daughter's fortune told by a Fairy, whose\nextraordinary science was at that time making a great sensation.\n\nShe set out in search of her, taking with her Imis, who, in her\ndistress at parting with Philax, wondered a thousand and a thousand\ntimes how anybody could trouble themselves about the future when the\npresent was so agreeable. Philax remained with the King, and all the\npleasures of the Court could not console him for the absence of the\nPrincess.\n\nThe Queen arrived at the Fairy's castle. She was magnificently\nreceived; but the Fairy was not at home. Her usual residence was on the\nsummit of a mountain at some distance from the castle, where she lived\nall alone and absorbed in that profound study which had rendered her\nfamous throughout the world.\n\nAs soon as she heard of the Queen's arrival, she returned to the\ncastle. The Queen presented the Princess to her, told her her name\nand the hour of her birth, which the Fairy knew as well as she did,\nthough she had not been present at it. The Fairy of the Mountain knew\neverything. She promised the Queen an answer in two days, and then\nreturned to the summit of the mountain. On the morning of the third day\nshe came back to the castle, bade the Queen descend into the garden,\nand gave her some tablets of palm leaves closely shut, which she was\nordered not to open except in the presence of the King.\n\nThe Queen, to satisfy her curiosity in some degree, asked her several\nquestions respecting the fate of her daughter. \"Great Queen,\" replied\nthe Fairy of the Mountain, \"I cannot precisely tell you what sort of\nmisfortune threatens the Princess. I perceive only that love will\nhave a large share in the events of her life, and that no beauty\never inspired such violent passions as that of Imis will do.\" It was\nnot necessary to be a fairy to foresee that the Princess would have\nadmirers. Her eyes already seemed to demand from all hearts the love\nwhich the Fairy assured the Queen would be entertained for her. In\nthe meanwhile Imis, much less uneasy about her future destiny than at\nbeing separated from Philax, amused herself by gathering flowers; but\nthinking only of his love, and in her impatience to depart, she forgot\nthe bouquet she had begun to compose, and unconsciously flung away the\nflowers she had amassed at first with delight. She hastened to rejoin\nthe Queen, who was taking her leave of the Fairy of the Mountain.\nThe Fairy embraced Imis, and gazing on her with the admiration she\ndeserved--\"Since it is impossible for me,\" she exclaimed, after a\nshort silence, which had something mysterious in it--\"since it is\nimpossible for me, beautiful Princess, to alter in your favour the\ndecrees of destiny, I will at least endeavour to enable you to escape\nthe misfortunes it prepares for you.\" So saying, she gathered with her\nown hands a bunch of lilies of the valley, and addressing the youthful\nImis--\"Wear always these flowers which I give to you,\" said she; \"they\nwill never fade, and as long as you have them about your person, they\nwill protect you from all the ills with which you are threatened by\nFate.\" She then fastened the bouquet on the head-dress of Imis, and the\nflowers, obedient to the wishes of the Fairy, were no sooner placed in\nthe hair of the Princess, than they adjusted themselves, and formed\na sort of aigrette, the whiteness of which seemed only to prove that\nnothing could eclipse that of the complexion of the fair Imis.\n\nThe Queen took her departure, after having thanked the Fairy a thousand\ntimes, and went back to Iceland, where all the Court impatiently\nawaited the return of the Princess. Never did delight sparkle with more\nbrilliancy and beauty than in the eyes of Imis and of her lover. The\nmystery involved in the plume of lilies of the valley was revealed to\nthe King alone. It had so agreeable an effect in the beautiful brown\nhair of the Princess, that everybody took it simply for an ornament\nwhich she had herself culled in the gardens of the Fairy.\n\nThe Princess said much more to Philax about the grief she felt at her\nseparation from him than about the misfortunes which the Fates had\nin store for her. Philax was, nevertheless, alarmed at them; but the\nhappiness of being together was present, the evils, as yet, uncertain.\nThey forgot them, and abandoned themselves to the delight of seeing\neach other again.\n\nIn the meanwhile, the Queen recounted to the King the events of her\njourney, and gave him the Fairy's tablets. The King opened and found in\nthem the following words, written in letters of gold:--\n\n    Fate for Imis hides despair\n    Under hopes that seem most fair;\n    She will miserable be,\n    Through too much felicity.\n\nThe King and Queen were much distressed at this oracle, and vainly\nsought its explanation. They said nothing about it to the Princess,\nin order to spare her an unnecessary sorrow. One day that Philax was\ngone hunting, a pleasure he indulged in frequently, Imis was walking\nby herself in a labyrinth of myrtles. She was very melancholy because\nPhilax was so long absent, and reproached herself for giving way\nto an impatience which he did not partake. She was absorbed in her\nthoughts, when she heard a voice, which said to her, \"Why do you\ndistress yourself, beautiful Princess? If Philax is not sensible of\nthe happiness of being beloved by you, I come to offer you a heart a\nthousand times more grateful--a heart deeply smitten by your charms,\nand a fortune sufficiently brilliant to be desired by any one except\nyourself, to whom the whole world is subject.\" The Princess was much\nsurprised at hearing this voice. She had imagined herself alone in\nthe labyrinth, and, as she had not uttered a word, she was still more\nastonished that this voice had replied to her thoughts. She looked\nabout her, and saw a little man appear in the air, seated upon a\ncockchafer. \"Fear not, fair Imis,\" said he to her; \"you have no lover\nmore submissive than I am; and although this is the first time that\nI have appeared to you, I have long loved you, and daily gazed upon\nyou.\" \"You astonish me!\" replied the Princess. \"What! You have daily\nbeheld me, and you know my thoughts? If so, you must be aware that it\nis useless to love me. Philax, to whom I have given my heart, is too\ncharming ever to cease being its master, and although I am displeased\nwith him, I never loved him so much as I do at this moment. But tell me\nwho you are, and where you first saw me.\" \"I am Pagan the Enchanter,\"\nreplied he, \"and have power over everybody but you. I saw you first\nin the gardens of the Fairy of the Mountain. I was hidden in one of\nthe tulips you gathered. I took for a happy omen the chance which had\ninduced you to choose the flower I was concealed in. I flattered myself\nthat you would carry me away with you; but you were too much occupied\nwith the pleasure of thinking of Philax. You threw away the flowers\nas soon as you had gathered them, and left me in the garden the most\nenamoured of beings. From that moment I have felt that nothing could\nmake me happy but the hope of being loved by you. Think favourably of\nme, fair Imis, if it be possible, and permit me occasionally to remind\nyou of my affection.\" With these words he disappeared, and the Princess\nreturned to the palace, where the sight of Philax dissipated the alarm\nshe had felt at this adventure. She was so eager to hear him excuse\nhimself for the length of time he had been hunting, that she had nearly\nforgotten to inform him of what had occurred to her; but at last she\ntold him what she had seen in the labyrinth of myrtles.\n\nThe young Prince, notwithstanding his courage, was alarmed at the\nidea of a winged rival, with whom he could not dispute the hand of\nthe Princess upon equal terms. But the plume of lilies of the valley\nguaranteed him against the effect of enchantments, and the affection\nImis entertained for him would not permit him to fear any change in her\nheart.\n\nThe day after the adventure in the labyrinth, the Princess, on awaking,\nsaw fly into her chamber twelve tiny nymphs, seated on honey-bees, and\nbearing in their hands little golden baskets. They approached the bed\nof Imis, saluted her, and then went and placed their baskets on a table\nof white marble, which appeared in the centre of the apartment. As soon\nas the baskets were set upon it, they enlarged to an ordinary size.\nThe nymphs having quitted them, again saluted Imis, and one of them,\napproaching the bed nearer than the rest, let something fall upon it,\nand then they all flew away.\n\nThe Princess, despite the astonishment which so strange a sight\noccasioned, took up what the nymph had dropped beside her. It was an\nemerald of marvellous beauty. It opened the moment the Princess touched\nit, and she found it contained a rose leaf, on which she read these\nverses.\n\n    Let the world learn, to its surprise,\n    The wondrous power of thine eyes.\n    Such is the love I bear to thee,\n    It makes e'en torture dear to me.\n\nThe Princess could not recover from her astonishment. At length she\ncalled to her attendants, who were as much surprised as Imis at the\nsight of the table and the baskets. The King, the Queen, and Philax\nhastened to the spot on the news of this extraordinary event. The\nPrincess, in her relation of it, suppressed nothing except the letter\nof her lover. She considered she was not bound to reveal that to any\none but Philax. The baskets were carefully examined, and were found to\nbe filled with jewels of extraordinary beauty, and of so great a value\nas to double the astonishment of the spectators.\n\nThe Princess would not touch one of them, and having found an instant\nwhen nobody was listening, she drew near to Philax and gave him the\nemerald and the rose leaf. He read his rival's letter with much\ndisquietude. Imis, to console him, tore the rose leaf to pieces before\nhis face; but ah! how dearly did they pay for that act!\n\nSome days elapsed without the Princess hearing anything of Pagan. She\nfancied that her contempt for him would extinguish his passion, and\nPhilax flattered himself by indulging in a like belief. That Prince\nreturned to the chase as usual. He halted alone by the side of a\nfountain, to refresh himself. He had about him the emerald which the\nPrincess had given him, and recollecting with pleasure the little value\nshe set on it, he drew it from his pocket to look at it. But scarcely\nhad he held it a moment in his hand when it slipped through his\nfingers, and, as soon as it touched the ground, changed into a chariot.\nTwo winged monsters issued from the fountain and harnessed themselves\nto it. Philax gazed on them without alarm, for he was incapable of\nfear, but he could not avoid feeling some emotion when he found himself\ntransported into the chariot by an irresistible power, and at the same\nmoment raised into the air, through which the winged monsters caused\nthe chariot to fly with a prodigious rapidity. In the meanwhile night\ncame, and the huntsmen, after searching throughout the wood in vain for\nPhilax, repaired to the Palace, whither they imagined he might have\nreturned alone; but he was not to be found there, nor had any one seen\nhim since he had set out with them for the chase.\n\nThe King commanded them to go back and renew their search for the\nPrince. All the Court shared in his Majesty's anxiety. They returned to\nthe wood, they ran in every direction around it, and did not retrace\ntheir steps to the Palace before daybreak, but without having obtained\nthe least intelligence of the Prince. Imis had passed the night in\ndespair at her lover's absence, of which she could not comprehend\nthe cause. She had ascended a terrace of the Palace to watch for the\nreturn of the party that had gone in search of Philax, and flattered\nherself she should see him arrive in their company; but no words can\nexpress the excess of her affliction when no Philax appeared, and she\nwas informed that it had been impossible to ascertain what had become\nof him. She fainted; they carried her into the Palace, and one of her\nwomen, in her haste to undress and put her to bed, took out of the hair\nof the Princess the plume of lilies of the valley which preserved her\nfrom the power of enchantments. The instant it was removed a dark cloud\nfilled the apartment, and Imis disappeared. The King and Queen were\ndistracted at this loss, and nothing could ever console them.\n\nThe Princess, on recovering from her swoon, found herself in a chamber\nof various-coloured coral, floored with mother-of-pearl, and surrounded\nby nymphs, who waited upon her with the most profound respect. They\nwere very beautiful, and magnificently and tastefully attired. Imis\nfirst asked them where she was. \"You are in a place where you are\nadored,\" said one of the nymphs to her. \"Fear nothing, fair Princess,\nyou will find in it everything you can desire.\" \"Philax is here,\nthen!\" exclaimed the Princess, her eyes sparkling with joy. \"I desire\nonly the happiness of seeing him again.\" \"You cherish too long the\nrecollection of an ungrateful lover,\" said Pagan, at the same moment\nrendering himself visible to the Princess, \"and as that Prince has\ndeserted you, he is no more worthy your affection. Let resentment and\nrespect for your own pride combine with the passion I entertain for\nyou. Reign for ever in these regions, lovely Princess; you will find in\nthem immense treasures, and all imaginable delights will attend your\nsteps.\" Imis replied to Pagan's address with tears alone. He left her,\nfearing to embitter her grief. The nymphs remained with her, and used\nall their endeavours to console her. A magnificent repast was served up\nto her. She refused to eat; but at length, on the following morning,\nher desire to behold Philax once more made her resolve to live. She\ntook some food, and the nymphs, to dissipate her sorrow, conducted\nher through various portions of the Palace. It was built entirely of\nshining shells, mixed with precious stones of different colours, which\nproduced the finest effect in the world; all the furniture was of gold,\nand of such wonderful workmanship that you might easily see it could\nonly have come from the hands of Fairies.\n\nAfter they had shown Imis the Palace, the nymphs led her into the\ngardens, which were of a beauty not to be described. She found in them\na very brilliant car, drawn by six stags, who were driven by a dwarf.\nShe was requested to enter the car. Imis complied; the nymphs seated\nthemselves at her feet. They were driven to the seaside, where a nymph\ninformed the Princess that Pagan, who reigned in this island, had\nmade it by the power of his art the most beautiful in the universe.\nThe sound of instruments interrupted the narration of the nymph.\nThe sea appeared to be entirely covered with little boats, built of\nflame-coloured coral, and filled with everything that could be required\nto compose a brilliant aquatic entertainment. In the midst of the small\ncraft, there was a barque of much larger size, on which the initials of\nImis were seen in every part, formed with pearls. It was drawn by two\ndolphins. It approached the shore. The Princess entered it, accompanied\nby her nymphs. As soon as she was on board, a superb collation appeared\nbefore her, and her ears were regaled at the same time by exquisite\nmusic which proceeded from the boats around her. Songs were sung, of\nwhich her praise alone was the theme. But Imis paid no attention to\nanything. She remounted her car, and returned to the Palace overwhelmed\nwith sadness. In the evening Pagan again presented himself. He found\nher more insensible to his love than ever; but he was not discouraged,\nand trusted to the effect of his constancy. He had yet to learn that in\nlove the most faithful are not always the most happy.\n\nEvery day he offered the Princess entertainments worthy of exciting the\nadmiration of all the world, but which were lost upon her for whom they\nwere invented. Imis thought of nothing but the absence of her lover.\n\nThat unhappy Prince had been transported in the meanwhile, by the\nwinged monsters, into a forest which belonged to Pagan. It was called\nthe Dismal Forest. As soon as Philax had arrived in it, the emerald\nchariot and the monsters disappeared. The Prince, surprised by this\nadventure, summoned up all his courage to his assistance, and it was\nthe only aid on which he could reckon in that place. He first explored\nseveral of the roads through the forest. They were dreadful, and the\nsun never penetrated their gloom. No human being was to be found in\nthem; not an animal even of any description; it seemed as though the\nbeasts themselves had a horror of this dreary dwelling.\n\nPhilax lived upon the wild fruit he found in it. He passed his days\nin the deepest sorrow. The loss of the Princess distracted him, and\nsometimes, with his sword, which he had retained, he occupied himself\nwith carving the name of Imis on the trunks of the trees, which were\nnot adapted for so tender a practice; but when we are truly in love we\nfrequently make things serviceable to our passion which appear to be\nleast favourable for the purpose.\n\nThe Prince continued daily to travel through the forest, and he had\nbeen nearly a year on his journey, when one night he heard some\nplaintive voices, but could not distinguish any words. Alarming as\nthese wailing sounds were at such an hour and in a place where the\nPrince had never yet met with mortal soul, the desire to be no longer\nalone, and to find at least some one as wretched as himself with whom\nhe could weep over the misfortunes that had befallen them, made him\nwait with impatience for morning, when he might seek out the persons\nwhose voices he had heard. He walked towards that part of the forest\nwhence he fancied the sounds had proceeded, but hunted all day in vain;\nat length, however, towards evening, he discovered, in a spot which\nwas clear of trees, the ruins of a castle which appeared to have been\nof great size and magnificence. He entered a court-yard, the walls\nof which were of green marble, and seemed still tolerably perfect.\nHe found in it nothing but trees of prodigious height, standing\nirregularly in various parts of the enclosure. He advanced towards a\nspot where he perceived something elevated upon a pedestal of black\nmarble. It proved to be a confused pile of armour and weapons, heaped\none upon the other: helmets, shields, and swords of an ancient form,\nwhich composed a sort of ill-arranged trophy. He looked for some\ninscription which might inform him to whom these arms had formerly\nappertained. He found one engraved on the pedestal. Time had nearly\neffaced the characters, and it was with much difficulty that he\ndeciphered these words:--\n\n  TO THE IMMORTAL RECOLLECTION OF THE GLORY OF THE FAIRY CEORA.\n\n                          IT WAS HERE\n                     THAT ON THE SAME DAY\n                   SHE TRIUMPHED OVER CUPID\n              AND PUNISHED HER FAITHLESS LOVERS.\n\nThis inscription did not afford Philax all the information he desired;\nhe therefore would have continued his search through the forest if\nnight had not overtaken him. He seated himself at the foot of a\ncypress, and scarcely had been there a moment, before he heard the same\nvoices which had attracted his attention the previous evening. He was\nnot so much surprised at this as at perceiving that it was the trees\nthemselves which uttered these complaints, just as if they had been\nhuman beings. The Prince arose, drew his sword, and struck with it the\ncypress which was nearest to him. He was about to repeat the blow, when\nthe tree exclaimed, \"Hold! hold! Assault not an unhappy Prince who is\nno longer in a state to defend himself!\" Philax stayed his hand, and\nbecoming accustomed to this supernatural circumstance, inquired of the\ncypress by what miracle it was thus a man and a tree at the same time.\n\"I am willing to inform you,\" replied the cypress; \"and as, during two\nthousand years, this is the first opportunity Fate has afforded me of\nrelating my misfortunes, I will not lose it. All the trees you behold\nin this court-yard were princes, renowned in their time for the rank\nthey held in the world, and for their valour. The Fairy Ceora reigned\nin this country. She was beautiful, but her science rendered her more\nfamous than her beauty. She therefore made use of other charms to\nsubject us to her sway. She had become enamoured of the young Oriza, a\nprince, whose admirable qualities rendered him worthy of a better fate.\nI should premise to you,\" added the cypress, \"it is the oak which you\nsee beside me.\" Philax looked at the oak, and heard it breathe a heavy\nsigh, drawn from it, no doubt, by the recollection of its misfortune.\n\"To attract this prince to her Court,\" continued the cypress, \"the\nFairy caused a tournament to be proclaimed. We all hastened to seize\nthis opportunity of acquiring glory. Oriza was one of the princes who\ndisputed the prize. It consisted of fairy armour which would render\nthe wearer invulnerable. Unfortunately, I was the conqueror. Ceora,\nirritated that Fate had not favoured her inclinations, resolved to\navenge herself upon us. She enchanted the looking-glasses, with\nwhich a gallery of her castle was entirely lined. Those who saw her\nreflected but once in these fatal mirrors, could not resist feeling\nfor her the most violent passion. It was in this gallery she received\nus the day after the tournament. We all saw her in these mirrors,\nand she appeared to us so beautiful, that those amongst us who had\nhitherto been indifferent to love, ceased to be so from that instant;\nand those who were in love with others became as suddenly faithless.\nWe no longer thought of leaving the Fairy's palace: our only anxiety\nwas to please her. In vain did state affairs demand our presence in\nour own dominions; nothing seemed of consequence to us save the hope\nof being beloved by Ceora. Oriza was the only one she favoured, and\nthe passion of the other princes but gave the Fairy opportunities of\nsacrificing them to this lover who was so dear to her, and caused the\nfame of her beauty to be spread throughout the world. Love appeared for\nsome time to have softened the cruel nature of Ceora; but at the end\nof four or five years she displayed her former ferocity. She revenged\nherself on the kings, her neighbours, for the smallest slight by the\nmost horrible murders, and abusing the power which her enchantments\ngave her over us, she made us the ministers of her cruelties. Oriza\nstrove in vain to prevent her injustice. She loved him; but she would\nnot obey him. Having returned one day from fighting and subduing a\ngiant whom I had challenged by her orders, I caused the arms of the\nvanquished to be brought into her presence. She was alone in the\nGallery of Looking-glasses. I laid the giant's spoils at her feet, and\npleaded my passion to her with inconceivable ardour, augmented, no\ndoubt, by the power of the enchantment by which I was surrounded. But\nfar from evincing the least gratitude for the success of my combat,\nor for the love I felt for her, Ceora treated me with the utmost\ncontempt; and, retiring into a boudoir, left me alone in the gallery,\nin an indescribable state of despair and rage. I remained there some\ntime, not knowing what resolution to take; for the enchantments of\nthe Fairy did not permit us to fight with Oriza. Careful of the life\nof her lover, the cruel Ceora excited our jealousy, but took from\nus the natural desire to revenge ourselves on a fortunate rival. At\nlength, after having paced the gallery for some time, I remembered that\nit was in this place I had first fallen in love with the Fairy, and\nexclaimed, 'It is here that I first felt that fatal passion which now\nfills me with despair; and you, wretched mirrors, who have so often\nrepresented the unjust Ceora to me, with a beauty which has enslaved my\nheart and reason, I will punish you for the crime of offering her to\nmy view with too great attraction.' At these words, snatching up the\ngiant's club, which I had brought to present to the Fairy, I dashed the\nmirrors to pieces. No sooner were they broken than I felt even greater\nhatred for Ceora than I had formerly felt love for her. The princes,\nmy rivals, felt at the same moment their charms broken, and Oriza\nhimself was ashamed of the love which the Fairy had for him. Ceora in\nvain attempted to retain her lover by her tears; he was insensible\nto her grief, and in spite of her cries, we set out all together,\ndetermined to fly from the terrible place, but in passing through the\ncourt-yard, the sky appeared to be on fire; a frightful clap of thunder\nwas heard, and we found it was impossible for us to move. The Fairy\nappeared in the air, riding on a great serpent, and addressing us in\na tone of voice which betrayed her rage,--'Inconstant princes,' said\nshe, 'I am about to punish you, by a torture which will never end, for\nthe crime you have committed in breaking my chains, which were too\ngreat an honour for you to bear; and as for you, ungrateful Oriza, I\ntriumph after all in the love you have felt for me. Content with this\nvictory, I shall visit you with the same misfortune as your rivals; and\nI command,' added she, 'in memory of this adventure, that when the use\nof mirrors shall be known to all the world, the breaking of these fatal\nglasses shall always be a certain sign of the infidelity of a lover.'\nThe Fairy disappeared in the air after having pronounced these words.\nWe were changed into trees; but the cruel Ceora, no doubt with the idea\nof increasing our suffering, left us our reason. Time has destroyed the\nsuperb castle, which was the victim of our misfortune; and you are the\nonly visitor we have seen during the two thousand years that we have\nbeen in this frightful forest.\"\n\nPhilax was about to reply to this speech of the cypress tree, when he\nwas suddenly transported into a beautiful garden; he there found a\nlovely nymph, who approached him with a gracious air, saying, \"If you\nwish it, Philax, I will allow you in three days to see the Princess\nImis.\"\n\nThe Prince, transported with joy at so unexpected a proposition, threw\nhimself at her feet to express his gratitude. At that same moment\nPagan was in the air, concealed in a cloud with the Princess Imis: he\nhad told her a thousand times that Philax was unfaithful, but she had\nalways refused, on the word of a jealous lover, to believe it. He now\nconducted her to this spot, he said, to convince her of the fickleness\nof the Prince she so unjustly preferred to him. The Princess saw Philax\nthrow himself, with an air of extreme delight, at the feet of the\nnymph; and was in despair that she could no longer deceive herself on\na point which she feared to believe more than anything in the world.\nPagan had placed her at a distance from the earth, which prevented her\nhearing what Philax and the nymph said; and it was by his orders that\nthe latter had presented herself to him.\n\nPagan led Imis back to his island, where after having convinced her of\nthe infidelity of Philax, he found he had only redoubled the grief of\nthat beautiful Princess without rendering her at all more favourable to\nhimself.\n\nIn despair at finding this pretended infidelity, from which he had\nexpected so much success, was useless to him, he resolved to be\nrevenged on the constancy of the lovers: he was not cruel, like the\nFairy Ceora, his ancestress, so he bethought him of a different\npunishment to that with which she had visited her unfortunate lovers.\nHe did not wish to destroy either the Princess, whom he had so tenderly\nloved, nor even Philax, whom he had already made suffer so much; so,\nconfining his revenge to the destruction of a passion which had so\nopposed his own, he erected in his island a Crystal Palace, and took\ncare to put into it everything that would render life agreeable but the\nmeans of leaving it; he shut up in it nymphs and dwarfs to wait on Imis\nand her lover; and, when everything was prepared for their reception,\nhe transported them both there. They at first thought themselves on\nthe summit of happiness, and blessed Pagan a thousand times for the\nmildness of his anger. As for Pagan, although at first he could not\nbear to see them together, he expected that this spectacle would one\nday be less painful to him. But in the meanwhile, he departed from the\nCrystal Palace, after having, with a stroke of his wand, engraved on it\nthis inscription:--\n\n        Absence, danger, pleasure, pain,\n        Were all employ'd, and all in vain,\n        Imis' and Philax' hearts to sever.\n        Pagan, whose power they dared defy,\n        Condemned them, for their constancy,\n        To dwell together here for ever!\n\nThey say that at the end of some years, Pagan was as much avenged as\nhe desired to be; and that the beautiful Imis and Philax fulfilled\nthe prediction of the Fairy of the Mountain, by wishing as fervently\nto recover the aigrette of lilies in order to destroy the agreeable\nenchantment, as they had formerly desired to preserve it as a safeguard\nagainst the evils which had been foretold would befal them.\n\n    Until that moment a fond pair, so blest,\n    Had cherished in their hearts Love's constant fire:\n    But Pagan taught them by that fatal test,\n    That e'en of bliss the human heart could tire.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCE OF LEAVES.\n\n\nIn one of those parts of the world, commonly called Fairyland, on which\npoets alone have the right to bestow names, there formerly reigned a\nKing so renowned for his rare qualities, that he attracted the esteem\nand admiration of all the Princes of his time. He had, many years\npast, lost his wife, the Queen, who had never brought him a son; but\nhe had ceased to desire one since the birth of a daughter of such\nmarvellous beauty, that from the moment she was born he lavished all\nhis affection and tenderness upon her. She was named Ravissante, by a\nFairy, a near relative of the Queen, who predicted that the wit and the\ncharms of the young Princess would surpass all that had ever before\nbeen known or even could be expected from her present beauty; but she\nadded to this agreeable prediction, that the perfect felicity of the\nPrincess would depend entirely on her heart remaining faithful to its\nfirst love. In such a case, who can feel assured of a happy destiny?\nThe King, who desired nothing so much as the happiness of Ravissante,\nheartily wished that it had been attached to any other condition,--but\nwe cannot command our own fates. He begged the Fairy, a thousand times,\nto bestow on the young Ravissante the gift of constancy, as he had\nseen her give to others the gifts of intelligence and of beauty. But\nthe Fairy, who was sufficiently wise not to deceive him respecting the\nextent of her power, frankly informed the King that it did not extend\nto the qualities of the heart. She, however, promised to use her utmost\nendeavour to impress the young Princess with the sentiments that would\nbe likely to ensure her happiness. Upon the faith of this promise, the\nKing confided Ravissante to her care from the time she attained her\nfifth year, preferring to deprive himself of the pleasure of seeing her\nrather than run any risk of marring her fortune. The Fairy therefore\ncarried off the little Princess, who was very soon consoled for leaving\nthe Court of her father, by the delight and novelty of passing through\nthe air in a brilliant little car.\n\nOn the fourth day after her departure the flying car stopped in the\nmiddle of the sea, upon a rock of a prodigious size--it was one entire\nshining stone, the colour of which was exactly that of the sky. The\nFairy remarked with pleasure that the young Ravissante was enchanted\nwith this colour, and she drew from it a happy omen for the future,\nas it was the colour which signifies fidelity. Shortly after they had\nlanded on it, the Fairy touched the rock with a golden wand which she\nheld in her hand. The rock immediately opened, and Ravissante found\nherself with the Fairy, in the most beautiful palace in the world;\nthe walls were of the same material as the rock, and the same colour\nprevailed in all the paintings and furniture, but it was so ingeniously\nmixed with gold and precious stones, that far from wearying the\neye, it equally pleased in all. The young Ravissante dwelt in this\nagreeable palace, with several beautiful maidens, whom the Fairy had\ntransported from various countries to attend on and amuse the Princess,\nand she passed her infancy in the enjoyment of every pleasure suited\nto her age. When she had attained her fourteenth year the Fairy again\nconsulted the stars, in order to learn precisely when the heart of\nRavissante would be touched with a passion which pleases even more\nthan it alarms, however formidable it may appear to some; and she read\ndistinctly in the stars that the fatal time approached when the destiny\nof the young Princess would be fulfilled. The Fairy had a nephew who\nwas indescribably dear to her: he was of the same age as Ravissante,\nborn on the same day and at the same hour. She had found, in consulting\nthe stars also for him, that they promised him the same fate as the\nPrincess--that is to say, perfect happiness, provided he possessed\nfidelity which nothing could vanquish. In order to make him both loving\nand faithful she had only to let him behold Ravissante. No one could\nresist her eyes, and the Fairy hoped that the attentions of the young\nPrince would one day touch her heart. He was the son of a King, brother\nof the Fairy; he was amiable; and the young Princess not only had never\nhad a lover, she had not even seen a man since she had lived on the\nrock. The Fairy consequently flattered herself that the novelty of the\npleasure of being tenderly beloved would perhaps inspire the Princess\nwith a feeling of love in return. She therefore transported the Prince,\nwho was named Ariston, to the same rock which served both as palace\nand prison for the beautiful Ravissante. He there found her amusing\nherself with the young maidens of her Court, by weaving garlands of\nflowers in a forest of blue hyacinths, where they were then walking,\nfor the Fairy, in bestowing on the rock the power of producing plants\nand trees, had limited the colour of them to that of the rock itself.\nShe had already, some time since, apprised the Princess that Prince\nAriston would soon visit the island, and she had added, in speaking\nof the Prince, everything that she thought likely to prejudice her in\nhis favour; but she deceived herself this time; and on the arrival of\nAriston, she observed nothing of that emotion or surprise which is the\nusual presage of a tender passion. As for the Prince, his sentiments\nwere in perfect accordance with the wishes of the Fairy: he became\npassionately in love from the moment he first set eyes on Ravissante;\nand it was not possible to see her without adoring her, for never were\ngrace and beauty so perfectly united as in the person of this amiable\nprincess. She had the most exquisite complexion, and her dark brown\nhair added to its dazzling whiteness; her mouth had infinite charms,\nher teeth were more purely white than pearls; her eyes, the most\nbeautiful in the world, were deep blue, and they were so brilliant, and\nat the same time so touching in their expression, that it was hardly\npossible to sustain their glances without yielding the heart at once\nto the fatal power which love had bestowed on them. She was not very\ntall, but perfectly beautiful, and all her movements were peculiarly\ngraceful. Everything she did and said pleased invariably, and often a\nsmile or a single word sufficed to prove that the charms of her mind\nequalled those of her person.\n\nSuch, and a thousand times more amiable than I can paint her, it had\nindeed been difficult for Ariston not to have become distractedly in\nlove; but the Princess received his attentions with indifference, and\ndid not appear in the least touched by them. The Fairy remarked it, and\nfelt a grief which was only surpassed by that of the Prince. She had\nremarked in the stars that he who was destined to possess Ravissante\nwould extend his power not only over the earth, but even over the sea.\nTherefore her ambition made her wish that her nephew should touch the\nheart of the Princess as much as he desired the same effect from his\nlove. She thought, however, that if the Prince were as learned as she\nwas in the magic art, he might perhaps find some mode of rendering\nhimself more attractive in the eyes of Ravissante; but the Fairy, who\nhad never loved, was ignorant that the art of pleasing is not always\nto be discovered, although sought for with the utmost ardour and\neagerness. She taught the Prince, therefore, in a short time, all those\nsciences which are known only to the fairies. He had no pleasure in\nlearning them, nor had he any idea of employing them but with regard\nto his passion for Ravissante. He began to make use of them by giving\nevery day a new f\u00eate to the Princess. She admired the wonders produced,\nshe deigned even sometimes to praise what appeared the most gallant in\nthese efforts of the Prince to please her; but after all, she received\nhis devotion and his attentions as the just homage due to her beauty,\nand she considered them amply repaid by her condescending to receive\nthem without anger.\n\nAriston began to despair of the success of his passion, but he was too\nspeedily obliged to confess that this very time, which he complained\nof so justly, and in which he felt so keenly the hopelessness of his\nlove, had, notwithstanding, been the most happy period of his life.\nA year after his arrival on the island he celebrated the return of\nthat memorable day on which he had first beheld Ravissante. In the\nevening he gave her a f\u00eate in the forest of hyacinths. Marvellous music\nwas heard in every part of the forest without any one being able to\ndiscover from whence the sounds proceeded. All that was sung by these\ninvisible musicians tenderly expressed the love of Ariston for the\nPrincess; they concluded their admirable concert by these words, which\nwere repeated several times:--\n\n    Nor reason nor relentless Fate\n    My sufferings can terminate!\n    Without one ray of hope to cheer,\n    I feel my heart consuming here.\n    How great his power Love never knew\n    Till from those eyes his arrows flew.\n\nAfter the music, there appeared suddenly an elegant collation under\na tent of silver gauze, elegantly looped up with ropes of pearls; it\nwas open on the side towards the sea, which bounded the forest in that\ndirection; and was illuminated by a great number of chandeliers formed\nof brilliants, which emitted an effulgence nearly equal to that of the\nsun. It was by this light that the nymphs of the court of Ravissante\npointed out to her an inscription at the entrance of the pavilion,\nwritten in letters of gold upon a ruby of immense magnitude, supported\nby twelve little cupids, who flew away as soon as the Princess had\nheard this inscription read, which consisted of these lines:--\n\n    Where'er throughout the world those lovely eyes\n    May the devoted hearts of men enchain,\n    For one as true as in this desert sighs\n    Those lovely eyes may search, sweet maid, in vain.\n    But through that world your glory to proclaim,\n    And every mortal to your altar bring,\n    Princess, we haste to bid the trump of Fame\n    With praise of beauty so divine to ring.\n\nThe f\u00eate continued, and Prince Ariston had at least the pleasure\nof engrossing the leisure of the Princess, if he could not occupy\nher heart. But he was deprived even of this gratification by a\nsurprising spectacle which appeared far out at sea, and attracted\nthe curiosity and attention of Ravissante and of all the court. The\nobject approached, and they distinguished that it was an arbour formed\nof interlaced myrtle and laurel branches, closed on all sides, and\npropelled with great rapidity by an infinite number of winged fish.\nThis sight was the more novel to Ravissante as she had never before\nseen anything of the colour of this arbour. The Fairy having foreseen\nthat it would cause some misfortune to her nephew, had absolutely\nbanished it from her island. The Princess watched for the approach\nof the strange object with an impatience which appeared to Ariston a\nbad omen for his love. She had not long to wait, for the winged fish\nbrought the arbour in a few moments to the foot of the rock, and the\nattention of the young Princess and of all the Court was redoubled.\n\nThe arbour opened, and out of it came a young man of marvellous beauty,\nwho appeared about sixteen or seventeen years of age. He was clothed\nin branches of myrtle, curiously interlaced, with a scarf composed of\nvarious-coloured roses. This handsome stranger experienced as much\nastonishment as he occasioned. The beauty of Ravissante did not leave\nhim at liberty to amuse himself by observing the rest of the splendid\nscene, the brilliancy of which had attracted him from a distance. He\napproached the Princess with a grace which she had never observed but\nin herself. \"I am so surprised,\" said he to her, \"at all I find on\nthese shores, that I have lost the power of expressing my astonishment.\nIs it possible,\" continued he, \"that such a goddess (for a goddess you\nsurely must be) has not temples throughout the universe?\" \"I am not a\ngoddess,\" said Ravissante, colouring; \"I am an unfortunate princess\nbanished from the states of the King, my father, to avoid I know not\nwhat misfortune, which they assure me has been predicted from the\nmoment of my birth.\" \"You appear to me much more formidable,\" replied\nthe handsome stranger, \"than those stars which may have some evil\ninfluence on your fate, and over what misfortune could not such perfect\nbeauty triumph! I feel that it can vanquish everything,\" he added,\nsighing, \"since it has conquered in a moment a heart which I had always\nflattered myself should remain insensible; but, Madam,\" continued he,\nwithout giving her time to reply, \"I must, against my will, withdraw\nfrom this charming place, where I see you only, and where I have lost\nmy peace of mind; I will return soon, if Cupid prove favourable to me.\"\nAfter these words, he re-entered the arbour, and in a few moments he\nwas lost to sight.\n\nPrince Ariston was so astounded and distressed by this adventure, that\nhe had not at first the strength to speak; a rival had appeared in a\nmanner as wonderful as unexpected; this rival had seemed to him only\ntoo charming, and he thought he had observed in the beautiful eyes of\nthe Princess, whilst the stranger addressed her, a languor which he\nhad often desired to see, but which till then he had never detected.\nAgonized by a despair which he dared not betray, he conducted\nRavissante to the Palace, where she passed part of the night, occupied\nby the recollection of her agreeable adventure, and made her nymphs\nrelate each circumstance over and over again, as though she had not\nbeen herself present. As for Prince Ariston, he went to consult the\nFairy, who, he hoped, might possess some charm to allay the violent\ngrief under which he laboured; but she had no antidote for jealousy,\nand they do say none has ever been discovered to this day. The Prince\nand the Fairy, however, redoubled their enchantments to defend the\nentrance to the rock from this formidable stranger, whom they took\nfor a magician. They surrounded the island with frightful monsters,\nwho occupied a great space on the sea, and who, excited by their own\nnatural ferocity, and by the power of the spell, seemed to assure\nAriston and the Fairy that it would be an impossibility to take from\nthem the beautiful Princess whom they so jealously guarded. Ravissante\nseemed to feel more vividly the power of the charms of the handsome\nstranger by the grief which she experienced at the obstacles opposed\nto his return to the island; and she resolved, at all events, to be\nrevenged on Prince Ariston. She began to hate him, and that alone was\nample vengeance. Ariston was inconsolable at finding he had provoked\nthe hatred of Ravissante by a passion which it appeared to him should\nhave produced just the contrary effect. The Princess mourned in secret\nthe forgetfulness of the stranger: it appeared to her that love should\nhave ere this made him keep his promise to return. Sometimes, also, she\nceased to desire it, when she remembered the dangers with which Ariston\nand the Fairy had surrounded the approach to the island. One day that\nshe was occupied in these various reflections whilst walking alone on\nthe sea-shore--for Ariston dared not, as formerly, follow her, and the\nPrincess refused even to attend the f\u00eates with which he was accustomed\nto entertain her,--she arrived at the same spot which the adventure\nwith the unknown visitor had rendered so remarkable, and was struck\nby the appearance of a tree of extraordinary beauty floating towards\nthe rock. The colour, which was the same as that of the myrtle arbour\nof the stranger, gave her a sensation of joy. The tree approached the\nrock, and the monsters attempted to defend the entrance, but a little\nbreeze agitated the leaves of the tree, and having blown off a few,\nand driven them against the monsters, they yielded to these light and\nharmless weapons, and even ranged themselves with a show of respect in\na circle around the tree, which approached the rock without further\nimpediment, and opened, disclosing to view the stranger seated on a\nthrone of verdure; he rose precipitately at the sight of Ravissante,\nand spoke to her with so much eloquence and so much love, that after\nshe had in a few words acquainted him with her history, she could not\nconceal from him that she was touched by his devotion, and rejoiced\nat his return. \"But,\" said she, \"is it fair that you should know the\nsentiments with which you have inspired me before I am informed of the\nname even of him who has called them forth?\"\n\n\"I had no intention of concealing it from you,\" replied the charming\nunknown; \"but when near you, one can speak of nothing but you; however,\nas you wish to know, I obey you, and beg to acquaint you that I am\ncalled the Prince of Leaves: I am the son of Spring and of a sea nymph,\na relation of Amphitrite, which is the cause of my power extending over\nthe sea: my empire comprises all parts of the earth which recognise\nthe influence of Spring; but I chiefly inhabit a happy island where\nthe gentle season which my father bestows reigns perpetually. There\nthe air is always pure, the fields ever covered with flowers; the sun\nnever scorches, but only approaches sufficiently near to illuminate\nit; night is banished, and it is therefore called the Island of Day.\nIt is inhabited by a people as amiable as the climate is agreeable.\nIt is in this place that I offer you an empire, sweet and calm, and\nwhere my heart above all things will acknowledge your sovereignty. You\nmust, however, beautiful Princess, consent to be carried off from this\nrock, where you are retained in veritable bondage: notwithstanding the\nhonours they pay you with a view to disguise the real state of the\ncase.\" Ravissante could not, however, make up her mind to follow the\nPrince of Leaves into his empire, in spite of the fear which she had\nof the power of the Fairy, and the suggestions of her love; she hoped\nthat her perseverance in rejecting the vows of Ariston, would at length\ncause him to resolve to conquer his passion, and that the Fairy would\nthen restore her to her father, from whom the Prince of Leaves might\ndemand her hand.\n\n  [Illustration: The Prince of Leaves.--P. 152.]\n\n\"But I should at least wish,\" said she to him, \"to be able to send\nyou word of what happens in this island, and I know not how that is\npossible, as everything I do is suspected and watched.\" \"I will leave\nwith you here,\" said the Prince, \"the subjects of a friend of mine,\nwho is also a prince. They will constantly attend on you, and by them\nyou can often send me intelligence; but remember, beautiful Princess,\nwith what impatience I shall wait for it!\" After these words, he\napproached the tree which had conveyed him, and having touched some of\nthe leaves, two butterflies appeared, the one white and flame-colour,\nthe other yellow and light-grey--the most beautiful in the world. As\nRavissante gazed on them, the Prince of Leaves said, smiling, \"I see\nyou are surprised at the appearance of the confidants I give you;\nbut these butterflies are not merely what they appear to be; it is a\nmystery which they will explain if you will permit them to talk to\nyou.\" As he spoke, Ravissante perceived in the distance some of her\nnymphs, who came to seek her in her solitude, and she begged the Prince\nof Leaves to re-embark; he obeyed, notwithstanding the infinite regret\nhe felt at quitting her, but he did not depart quickly enough to avoid\nobservation; they informed Ariston and the Fairy of his return to the\nisland, and from that moment, in order to take away from the beautiful\nRavissante the means, and even the hope of seeing him again, they\nerected a tower on the summit of the rock formed of the same stone;\nand in order to render it more entirely secure, as the guard of living\nmonsters had proved insufficient, they caused the tower and rock to be\ninvisible to all those who should come to seek her, not daring again\nto trust to ordinary enchantments. Ravissante was in despair at being\nimmured in so cruel and impregnable a prison. Prince Ariston had not\nconcealed from her that he had rendered it invisible; he had even\nattempted to make her accept this care for her safety as a proof of\nhis tender devotion; but Ravissante felt her hatred and contempt for\nhim increase daily, and he dared no longer enter her presence. The\nbutterflies, however, had not quitted her, and she often regarded them\nwith pleasure as having come from the Prince of Leaves. One day that\nshe was still more sad than usual, and musing, on a terrace at the top\nof the tower, the flame-coloured butterfly flew on to one of the vases\nfilled with flowers, which ornamented the balustrade. \"Why,\" said he,\nall of a sudden to the Princess, \"do you not send me to the Prince of\nLeaves, he will undoubtedly come to your relief?\" Ravissante was at\nfirst so astonished at hearing the butterfly speak, although her lover\nhad prepared her for the novelty, that she was for some minutes unable\nto answer; however, the name of the Prince of Leaves assisting to\ndissipate her surprise, \"I was so astonished,\" said she at length, \"to\nhear a butterfly speak like ourselves, that I could not sooner reply\nto you. I can well believe that you could go to apprise the Prince of\nLeaves of my misfortune, but what can he do?--only distress himself\nuselessly. He cannot find me in a place which the cruelty of my enemies\nhas taken care to render invisible.\"\n\n\"It is less so than you think,\" replied the yellow butterfly, flying\nround the Princess in order to join in the conversation: \"a little\nwhile ago, I surveyed your prison, I flew and even swam round it; it\ndisappears when one is on the water, but when one is elevated in the\nair it ceases to be invisible. No doubt the Fairy did not consider that\nroad so easy as to require the same defence as that by the sea. I was\nabout to give you this hint,\" continued the butterfly, \"when my brother\nbroke the silence which we have hitherto preserved.\" This agreeable\npiece of news restored hope to the Princess. \"Is it possible,\" said\nshe, \"that Ariston can have neglected any precaution which could\ngratify his cruelty and his love? No doubt his power, like that of the\nFairy, which is unbounded over earth and sea, does not extend to the\nair.\" This was precisely the reason which had prevented the Prince and\nthe Fairy from rendering the tower and the rock invisible from the\nsky. \"But,\" added Ravissante, after some minutes' reflection, \"can the\nPrince of Leaves have any power in the air?\" \"No, Madam,\" replied the\nflame-coloured butterfly, \"he can do nothing, and your prison would be\ninvisible to him though he be a demi-god, as it would be to a mortal;\nbut--\" \"The Prince will then be as miserable as myself,\" interrupted\nthe sorrowful Ravissante, bursting into a flood of tears, which added\nto her beauty, and which affected extremely the two butterflies; \"and\nI feel I shall be more distressed at his sorrows than at my own!\nWhat ought I, then, to do?\" continued she, sighing. \"Send me off at\nonce,\" replied the flame-coloured butterfly, briskly; \"I will go and\napprise the Prince of Leaves of your misfortunes, and he will come\nto the rescue: although his power does not extend to the air, he has\na prince amongst his friends who can do anything in it, and of whom\nhe can dispose as of himself--but my brother can inform you of all\nthis during my absence. Adieu, beautiful Princess,\" continued the\nbutterfly, flying over the balustrade; \"cease to weep, and count on my\ndiligence, I will fly as rapidly as your wishes.\" After these words,\nthe butterfly was lost in the air; and the Princess felt that charming\nand lively sensation of joy which the hope of soon beholding a beloved\none inspires. She returned to her apartment, and the yellow butterfly\nfollowed her; she was extremely impatient to know from what prince her\nlover hoped for assistance; to end her doubts, she begged the yellow\nbutterfly to tell her all that could contribute to augment or flatter\nher hopes. She placed him on a little basket of flowers, which she\ncarried to a table near her, and the butterfly, who considered it an\nhonour to please her, commenced his recital.\n\n\"Near the Island of Day, where the Prince of Leaves reigns, there is\nanother, smaller but equally agreeable; the ground there is always\ncovered with flowers, and they affirm that it is a boon granted to our\ncountry by Flora, to immortalize the memory of the happy days when she\ncame there to find Zephyr: for they contend that it was on our island\nthat they used to meet, when their love was still new and secret. It\nis called the \"Island of Butterflies.\" The inhabitants are not of the\nform that you see me under. They are little winged men, very pretty,\nvery gallant, very amorous, and so volatile that they hardly love\nthe same thing for even one day. Whilst the golden age reigned on\nthe earth, Cupid, who at that time flattered himself that the hearts\nof all mankind would be ever fond and faithful, feared that by the\nfacility with which we flew about the world, we might teach mortals\nthe agreeable art of changing in love, which this god called an error\ncapable of utterly destroying the happiness of his empire. In order to\ninterdict all communication between us and the rest of the universe,\nhe came to our island, touched the ground with one of his arrows,\nand rising again upon a brilliant cloud which had borne him thither,\n'If again,' said he, to the inhabitants of the island, 'you wish to\ntraverse the air, like the gods, I have taken sure means of vengeance;\nyou can no longer, by your dangerous society, trouble the happiness\nof my empire.' After these words he disappeared. The threats of Cupid\ndid not, however, take from the Butterflies the desire for change,\nnor even for flying, if it was only for the pleasure of occasionally\nquitting the earth. Some of them mounted into the air, and found that\nthey had the same facility as they possessed before Cupid had forbidden\nthem to do so; but as soon as they passed the limits of the Island\nthey were changed into little insects, such as you now behold me, all\nof different colours, avenging Cupid having intended to mark by this\nvariety how much they were given to inconstancy. Surprised at their\nmetamorphosis, they returned to our island, and as soon as they touched\nthe ground they were restored to their original form. Since that fatal\ntime the vengeance of Cupid has always continued amongst us; when we\nquit the earth, nothing of our nature, as men, remains, except our\nmind and the liberty of speaking like them; but we have never made use\nof it out of our island, not choosing to make this act of vengeance\ncelebrated by publishing it ourselves to the universe, or to alarm\nthose who, like us, are inclined to inconstancy. We have, however, the\npleasure of seeing, in our travels through the world, that fate has\nrevenged us on Cupid without our assistance; for Inconstancy reigns\nwith equal power to his own in the whole extent of his empire. Some\ncenturies after this change took place in the realm of the butterflies,\nthe Sun, that seemed to take pleasure in making it bring forth flowers,\nwas so enchanted with his handiwork, that he fell in love with a rose\nof extraordinary beauty; he was tenderly beloved by her, and she\nsacrificed to him all the care bestowed on her by the zephyrs. At the\nend of some time the rose became of a different form to the rest; the\nSun immediately caused others to blow, resembling her, in order that\nshe might be less remarked in this quantity of flowers, which then\nappeared a new kind of plant. It has since been called 'the rose of\na hundred leaves.' At length, from the Sun and this rose sprung a\ndemi-god, whom the Sun destined to reign for ever in our island. Until\nthen we had had no sovereign, but the son of a god who favoured so\nconstantly our earth was received as our ruler with extreme joy; they\ncalled him the Prince of the Butterflies. It is this Prince, beautiful\nPrincess, who can assist you in the air, and whom the adventure I am\nabout to relate has rendered such a fast friend of the Prince of Leaves.\n\n\"In a country far removed from that of the butterflies there reigns a\nFairy, who dwells in a very dark cavern: they call her the Fairy of\nthe Grotto. She is of an immense size; her complexion is a mixture\nof blue, green, and yellow. Her face is almost as formidable as her\npower, and she is so dreaded by mortals that there is not one bold\nenough to approach the country which she inhabits. One day the Prince\nof the Butterflies, travelling for his pleasure in the neighbourhood\nof his empire, perceived the Fairy, and surprised at this rencontre\nhe followed her for some time to see what would become of so fearful\na monster. She did not remark that she was observed, for the Prince,\nalthough the offspring of the Sun, had not been able to obtain from\nfate the liberty of travelling under any other form than that which\nwe all took on leaving the kingdom, because he was born since the\ntime when Cupid had made us feel his vengeance. However, he was not\ninconstant, like all his subjects, and Cupid, by way of showing him\na little favour on that account, had permitted him, when he changed\nhis form, to be of one colour only, and that colour should be the one\nwhich signifies Fidelity. Under this form he followed the Fairy as\nfar as he pleased, and he saw her enter her dismal abode. Impelled\nby curiosity, he flew in after her; but what a sight awaited him at\nthe bottom of this cavern! He there saw a young lady, more beautiful\nand more brilliant than the day, reclining on a bed of turf, and who\nappeared in extreme grief. From time to time she dried the tears\nwhich fell from her lovely eyes; her distress and the languor of her\nappearance added to her charms. The Prince of the Butterflies remained\nso entranced by this spectacle, that he forgot the form under which he\nappeared, and only remembered that he was desperately in love, and that\nhe was burning to say so. He was roused from this sweet reverie by the\nawful voice of the Fairy, who spoke to the young lady with frightful\nseverity. This filled his heart with sorrow and anger, as well as with\ndespair, at not daring to express either one or the other. The Fairy,\nwho by a natural restlessness could not remain long in the same place,\nwent out of the cavern; the Prince then approached the young person\nwith whom he was so charmed; he flew round her, and wishing to enjoy\nthe only liberty which his form permitted, he alighted on her hair,\nwhich was the fairest in the world, and at length upon her cheek. He\nwas dying to tell her how much he was touched with her beauty and her\ngrief, but by what means could he convince her that he was son of the\nSun, without being able to appear before her in his own form; and how\ncould he inform her of the vengeance of Cupid, and the inconstancy\nso natural to the inhabitants of the island, at the very time that\nhe wished to persuade her that he would never cease to love her? He\nremained several days in the cavern, or in the forest with which it was\nsurrounded; he could not resolve to quit this beauty that he so adored,\nand although he dared not speak to her, he saw her, and that was enough\nto make him prefer this hideous abode to the agreeable scenes where\nhe had the pleasure of reigning, and of being acknowledged the most\nbeautiful Prince in the world.\n\n\"During the time he remained with this young creature he always saw\nthe Fairy treat her with incredible inhumanity, and he learnt from\ntheir conversation that this beautiful person was the Princess of the\nLinnets, whom the Fairy, being a relative, had carried off at a tender\nage, in order more easily to usurp her kingdom, which was a little\nisland situated near to that of the Butterflies. He had heard of the\nPrincess having been carried away, and that no one knew what had become\nof her. This country was called the Land of the Linnets, on account\nof the great quantity of those little birds that was found there. The\nPrince of the Butterflies pitied sincerely this unfortunate Princess,\nand, in the hope of being able to deliver her, he determined at length\nto tear himself away from her. He flew to the Island of Day without\nresting for a moment; he there found the Prince of Leaves, with whom\nhe was united in the most tender bond of friendship, and who was about\nto pass a part of the year in the Island of Butterflies. He related\nhis adventure to the Prince, and after discussing every means by which\nit would be possible to set the young Princess at liberty, the Prince\nof Leaves resolved to go himself into the forest of the Fairy, to\ninform the Princess of the Linnets of the violent love which the Prince\nof the Butterflies felt for her, and the reason which would always\nprevent that unfortunate sovereign from appearing before her under\nhis proper form, unless she consented to be transported to the Island\nof Butterflies. But the Prince of Leaves appeared to his friend too\nformidable a rival to be entrusted with the commission; for he feared,\nwith reason, that the Princess might be more touched by the charms of\nso perfect a prince than by the recital of the love entertained for\nher by another prince whom she had never seen nor even heard speak.\nHe deplored the cruelty of his destiny, and sought some other mode of\ndeclaring his love to the Princess, but without success.\n\n\"None but a demi-god could approach the dwelling of the Fairy without\nfeeling immediately the direful effect of her fury. He embarked,\ntherefore, with the Prince of Leaves, agitated by a jealous fear.\nIt appeared to him that this Prince could not preserve for a single\nmoment, on beholding the beautiful Princess, the insensibility on which\nhe had always piqued himself.\n\n\"Cupid, touched at the sad state to which he was reduced, wished at\nleast to re-assure him on this point, and at the same time triumph over\nthe insensible heart of the Prince of Leaves. It was by you, beautiful\nPrincess,\" continued the Butterfly, \"that the God expected to gain this\nvictory, and you alone are worthy of it.\n\n\"It was on the same day that the two princes embarked that they saw\nfrom afar, upon this rock, an illumination so brilliant, that the\nPrince of Leaves, impelled by his destiny more than by curiosity,\nordered the winged fish which conducted the arbour of myrtle in\nwhich he travelled, to approach the spot from which the bright light\nemanated. You know the remainder of this adventure. The Prince of\nLeaves found you in the forest of hyacinths, and left at your feet the\nliberty which he had held so dear, and which, till that moment, he\nhad always preserved. Hurried away by the impatience of the Prince of\nthe Butterflies, who had suffered nothing but regret at the delay, he\ntore himself, with infinite pain, from a spot where his heart and his\nwishes would have made him desire to remain for ever. They continued\ntheir voyage, and the Prince of the Butterflies was so delighted to see\nthat the Prince of Leaves was so deeply in love, and so far from being\nlikely to become his rival, that he did not doubt of its being a happy\nomen, and that he might count on a successful issue to his enterprise.\n\n\"They arrived in the forest of the Fairy of the Grotto; they entered\nher dreary abode, and Cupid, who had resolved to favour them, caused\nthem to find the Princess of the Linnets alone and asleep. There was\nno time to be lost--the Prince of Leaves carried her off in the myrtle\narbour, whilst the Prince of the Butterflies followed.\n\n\"The Fairy returned at this moment; she uttered the most horrible\nshrieks at the sight of this abduction; she thought she could prevent\nit by her art, and revenge herself on those who had thus dared to\nrescue the Princess of the Linnets. But her enchantments were powerless\nover the Prince of Leaves, who soon was far away from the dismal shore.\nIn the meanwhile the Princess awoke, and was agreeably surprised at\nfinding herself where she was, and at the presence of the Prince of\nLeaves. But it was an agreeable surprise, which increased when that\nPrince conversed with her, and informed her of the effect of her\nbeauty, and that she would henceforth, being delivered from the tyranny\nof the Fairy, reign in her own empire, and in one also even finer than\nher own. The Prince of the Butterflies then spoke of his love with\nso much vivacity and tenderness, that the Princess felt excessive\ncuriosity to see him in his true form, of which she confessed to have\nformed a very exalted idea from the time she heard his voice. They\ncontinued to float on, and after some days arrived at the Island of\nButterflies, when the Prince hastened to land, in order to appear at\nlength in his own person to the Princess. The Princess of Linnets then\nsent to inform her subjects in her own island of her adventures: they\nflocked to see her, and it was in their presence that she accepted the\nheart and empire of the happy Prince of the Butterflies. The Prince of\nLeaves, however, left her immediately that he had safely conducted her\nto that island, in order to return hither, beautiful Princess, where\nhis anxiety and his ardent love made him impatient to be.\"\n\nRavissante listened with extreme attention to the Butterfly, when\nshe saw Prince Ariston enter her chamber with such fury in his\ncountenance, that she dreaded its effects. \"Fate threatens me,\" he\ncried, on entering; \"and as it is with some great misfortune, it must,\nno doubt, be that of losing you; none other would affect my heart, or\nbe worthy of being so predicted. See, Madam,\" he continued, addressing\nRavissante, \"the colour which the walls of this tower are assuming--it\nis a certain sign of approaching misfortune!\"\n\nAs the misfortunes of Ariston were a happiness to Ravissante, she\nlooked without distress at that which he pointed out to her notice,\nand perceived, indeed, that the blue stones were losing their original\ncolour, and beginning to turn green. She was delighted to see this,\nas she augured from it the certain approach of the Prince of Leaves.\nThe joy which the unhappy Ariston remarked in her eyes redoubled his\ndespair. What did he not then say to Ravissante? And rendered sincere\nby the excess of his grief, he told her that his love was so great\nas not to allow of his ceasing to adore her, although he was sure of\nbeing miserable all his life. \"I cannot doubt it,\" said he to the\nPrincess, \"for the Fates foretold to me as to you--that I should always\nbe miserable if I were not always faithful to the first impressions\nlove made on my heart. And by what means could I ever obey this cruel\nmandate? After one has seen you, however he may have loved before, he\nmust forget everything--even the preservation of his own happiness in\nloving and seeking to please you. A young princess of the Court of the\nKing, my father, once appeared to me worthy of my regard. I thought\nfully that I should be sighing to return to her after remaining here\nfor a short time; but the first sight of you subverted all my previous\nplans. My reason and my heart were equally inclined for the change, and\nI thought nothing impossible to the tender love with which you inspired\nme. I flattered myself even that it might overcome fate; but your\nausterity, which never relaxed, has taught me that I was deceived, and\nthat there remains for me no other hope but that of dying speedily for\nyour sake.\"\n\nThe Prince Ariston finished speaking these words, which made Ravissante\neven think him worthy of some pity, when they saw in the air a throne\nof foliage, supported by an immense number of butterflies. One\namongst them, which was entirely blue, and by whose colour Ravissante\nrecognised the son of the Sun, flew to her, and said, \"Come, beautiful\nPrincess, to-day you shall resume your liberty, and make the most\namiable Prince in the world happy.\"\n\nThe butterflies placed the throne near Ravissante; she seated herself\non it, and they bore her away. Ariston, distracted at the loss of the\nPrincess, in a paroxysm of despair, flung himself into the sea. The\nFairy immediately abandoned the rock which this suicide had rendered\nso fatal and melancholy; and to mark her fury, she shivered both it\nand the tower into a thousand pieces by a clap of thunder, and the\nfragments were carried by the wind and waves to different sea-coasts.\nIt is of this species of stone that they now make rings, which they\ncall turquoise. Those which are still called \"de la Vieille Roche\" are\nmade of the remains of this shattered rock, and the others are only\nstones which resemble them. The remembrance of the misfortune predicted\nto Prince Ariston by the change of colour in the walls of the tower has\ndescended to our time. They say still that these rings become green\nwhen any misfortune is about to happen to the wearers, and that these\nmisfortunes are generally connected with love affairs.\n\nWhilst the Fairy gave vent to her grief by the destruction of the\nisland, the Prince of the Butterflies, satisfied at having rendered to\nthe Prince of Leaves a similar service to that he had received from\nhim, conducted the beautiful Ravissante, flying before her, to a boat\nof rushes, ornamented with garlands of flowers, in which the Prince\nof Leaves awaited her with all the impatience which the violence of\nhis love inspired. It is impossible to convey an idea of the pleasure\nhe felt at the arrival of the Princess; never were joy and love so\napparent as in the heart and language of this Prince. He sailed\nimmediately to the Island of Day. The Prince of the Butterflies flew\noff to rejoin the amiable Princess of Linnets as speedily as possible.\nRavissante sent two butterflies to the King, her father, to inform him\nof her good fortune; the good King thanked the Fates, and set out as\nsoon as he could for the Island of Day, where the Prince of Leaves and\nRavissante reigned with all imaginable felicity, and were always happy,\nbecause they never ceased to be fond and faithful.\n\n    The lot of Ravissante with envy view--\n    Born to be blest could she prove only true.\n    How many hapless lovers had succeeded,\n    Had constancy been all their idols needed!\n\n\n\n\nTHE FORTUNATE PUNISHMENT.\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a King, who fell desperately in love with a\nPrincess of his Court. As soon as he loved her he told her so. Kings\nare more privileged than common lovers. The Princess was not offended\nat a love which might place her on the throne, and the King found\nher as virtuous as she was charming. He married her: the wedding was\nincredibly magnificent; and what was even more remarkable, he became a\nhusband without ceasing to be a lover. The felicity of this love-match\nwas only disturbed by the fact of their having no children to succeed\nto their happiness and to their kingdom. The King, in order to obtain\nat least the comfort of hope on this point, resolved to consult a\nfairy, whom he believed to be particularly friendly. She was called\nFormidable, although she had not always been so to the King. It is said\neven that in the old collections of the time in that country are to be\nfound ballads which tell a great deal about them. So bold have poets\nbeen in all ages! For the Fairy was very much respected, and appeared\nso stern that it was almost impossible to imagine she could ever have\nfelt the power of love; but where are the hearts that escape? The\nKing, who had always been very gallant, and who had a great deal of\ndiscernment, was well aware that appearances are often very deceptive.\nHe had first met with Formidable in a wood where he had been hunting;\nshe appeared to his eyes under a form so graceful, and with so charming\nan air, that the King did not doubt for a moment her desire to please:\nit is seldom such charms are displayed without that intention. The\nKing fell in love with her; the Fairy felt more pleasure in being\nloved than in always inspiring terror. This affection lasted several\nyears; but one day when she reckoned on the heart of her lover as on a\nproperty it was impossible for her to lose, she let the King see her\nin her real form: she was no longer young or handsome. She repented\nimmediately when she perceived by the altered expression of the King's\nface that she had been too confident of her power, and discovered that,\nhowever tender hearts may be, they cannot excite or retain love if\nthey are not united with an agreeable person. The King was ashamed at\nfinding he had been in love with only an imaginary beauty; he ceased\nto love the Fairy, and thenceforth only treated her with attention and\nrespect. Formidable, with a pride that was natural to her, assumed so\nwell the appearance of being contented with the esteem of the King,\nthat she persuaded him she was one of his best friends. She even went\nto his wedding, in company with all the other fairies of the country,\nwho were invited, in order not to give any one reason to fancy from her\nrefusal that she had any dislike to the marriage.\n\nThe King, therefore, counting on the friendship of his old\nmistress, went to visit her in her residence, which was a palace of\nflame-coloured marble in the midst of a vast forest. The approach to\nit was by an avenue of immense length, bordered on both sides by a\nhundred flame-coloured lions. Formidable liked only this colour, and\nshe had therefore by her magic art caused all the animals born in the\nforest to be of the same hue. At the end of the avenue was a large\nsquare, wherein a troop of Moors, clothed in flame-colour and gold,\nmagnificently armed, kept perpetual guard.\n\nThe King traversed the forest alone; he knew the way perfectly well; he\neven passed through the avenue of lions without danger, for he threw\nthem, as he entered, some ranunculuses, which the Fairy had formerly\ngiven him to use when passing those terrible beasts. As soon as the\nKing had thrown them those beautiful flowers, they became gentle and\nquiet. He at length reached the Moorish guard, who at first bent their\nbows at him, but the King threw them some pomegranate blossoms, which\nhe had received from the Fairy with the ranunculuses, and the Moors\nshot their arrows into the air, and drew themselves up in line to\nallow him to pass. He entered the palace of Formidable: she was in a\nsaloon, seated on a throne of rubies, in the midst of twelve Moorish\nwomen, clothed in flame-coloured gauze and gold. The Fairy's dress was\nof the same fashion and colour, but so covered with precious stones\nthat it shone like the sun; yet it did not make her appear any the\nmore beautiful. The King looked and listened for a few minutes before\nhe entered the saloon. Near the Fairy was a quantity of books on a\ntable of red marble: he saw that she took one and began to instruct\nthe slaves in those secrets which render fairies so powerful; but\nFormidable taught them none but such as would be inimical to the\nhappiness and comfort of mankind; she took good care to prevent their\nlearning anything that would contribute to human felicity. The King\nfelt he hated the Fairy; and entering the apartment, interrupted\nthe fatal lesson, and surprised Formidable by his appearance; but\nrecovering herself immediately, she dismissed her Moors, and regarding\nthe King with an air of pride and anger,--\"What seek you here,\ninconstant Prince?\" she exclaimed. \"Wherefore do you come to disturb\nby your odious presence the repose I endeavour to obtain in this\nseclusion?\" The King was quite surprised by so unexpected a mode of\naddress; and the Fairy, opening one of the books, continued: \"I see\nclearly what you want. Yes, you shall have a daughter by this Princess\nwhom you have so unjustly preferred to me, but do not hope to be happy:\nit is time for me to be avenged. The daughter that shall be born to you\nere long shall be as much hated by all the world as I formerly loved\nyou!\" The King did everything in his power to soften the anger of the\nFairy; but it was useless; hatred had succeeded to love, and nothing\nbut love could soften the Fairy's heart; for pity and generosity were\nsentiments quite unknown to her. She haughtily commanded the King to\nleave the palace, and opening a cage, a flame-coloured parrot flew out.\n\"Follow this bird,\" said she to the King, \"and bless my clemency for\nnot delivering you to the fury of my lions and guards.\"\n\nThe bird flew off, and the King followed, and was conducted by a road\nhitherto unknown to him, and much shorter than the one he had come by,\ninto his own kingdom. The Queen, who on his return remarked his extreme\nsadness, begged to know the reason so importunately, that the King\nat length told her of the cruel prediction of the Fairy, but without\ninforming her of all that had occurred between them in former times,\nin order not to add to the troubles of his beautiful wife. This young\nPrincess knew that one fairy could not positively prevent anything\npredicted by another of her own class, but that she might mitigate the\npunishment which that other had inflicted.\n\n\"I shall go,\" said the Queen, \"in search of Lumineuse, Sovereign of\nthe Happy Empire; she is a celebrated fairy who delights in protecting\nthe unfortunate. She is a relation of mine; she has ever favoured me,\nand she even predicted the good fortune to which love would lead me.\"\nThe King quite approved of the expedition of the Queen, and hoped much\nfrom it. Her equipage being ready, she set off to seek Lumineuse. The\nFairy bore this name because her beauty was so dazzling that it was\nhardly possible to endure the brilliancy of it, and the grandeur of her\nsoul quite equalled her extreme loveliness. The Queen arrived in a vast\nplain, and perceived, at a great distance, a large tower; but although\nit was in sight, it was very long before she could approach it, owing\nto the many windings in the road. It was built of white marble, and had\nno doors, but arched windows of crystal; a beautiful river, of which\nthe waves appeared of liquid silver, bathed the foot of the tower, and\nwound nine times around it. The Queen, with all her Court, arrived on\nthe bank of the river, at the point where it began its first circle\nround the dwelling of the Fairy. The Queen crossed it on a bridge of\nwhite poppies, which the power of Lumineuse had rendered as safe and\nas durable as if it had been built of brass. But although it was only\nmade of flowers, it was nevertheless to be feared, for it had the power\nof putting people to sleep for seven years who attempted to pass it\ncontrary to the wish of the Fairy. The Queen perceived on the other\nside of the bridge, six young men, magnificently attired, sleeping on\nbeds of moss, under tents of foliage. These were princes enamoured of\nthe Fairy: and as she never would hear love spoken of, she had not\nallowed them to pass any farther. The Queen, after having crossed the\nbridge, found herself in the first spot which the river left free; it\nwas occupied by a charming labyrinth of laurestinus and jasmine; there\nwere none but white, for that was the colour Lumineuse preferred. After\nhaving admired this lovely maze, and easily threaded its paths, which\nwere only difficult for those the Fairy did not wish should enter her\nagreeable dwelling, the Queen again crossed the river by a bridge of\nwhite anemones; it took at this place its second turn, and the space\nwhich it left before it made its third circle was occupied by a forest\nof acacias always in full bloom; the roads through it were charming,\nand so overshadowed that the rays of the sun never penetrated; a number\nof white doves whose plumage might have put the snow to shame were seen\nin all directions, and the trees were covered with countless white\ncanary-birds, that made a delicious concert. Lumineuse, with a touch\nof her wand, had taught them the most beautiful and charming songs in\nthe world. They left this lovely forest by a bridge of tube-roses, and\nthey then entered a fair plain, wooded with trees laden with such fine\nand delicious fruit, that the least of them would have put to shame the\nfamous gardens of the Hesperides. Every evening the Queen found the\nmost beautiful tents in the world prepared for her, and a magnificent\nrepast was served as soon as she arrived, without her seeing any of\nthe skilful and active officers who prepared it. The Fairy, who had\nlearnt by her books of the arrival of the Queen, took care that her\njourney should not be in the least degree fatiguing to her. The Queen,\nleaving this marvellous spot, passed the river again, by a bridge of\nwhite pinks, and entered the park of the Fairy. It was as beautiful as\nall the rest. The Fairy sometimes came to hunt there; it was filled\nwith an infinite number of white stags and does, with other animals of\nthe same colour; a pack of white greyhounds were scattered over the\npark, and lying on the turf with the deer and white rabbits, and other\nanimals usually wild, but they were not so in this place, the art of\nthe Fairy had tamed them; and when the dogs chased some beast for the\namusement of Lumineuse, it appeared as if they understood it was only\nin play, for while they hunted it in the best style, they never did\nthe animal any harm. In this place, the river made its fifth circuit\nround the dwelling of the Fairy. The Queen, in quitting the park,\ncrossed the water on a bridge of white jasmine, and found herself in\na charming hamlet. All the little cottages were built of alabaster.\nThe inhabitants of this pleasant place were subjects of the Fairy,\nand tended her flocks; their garments were of silver gauze; they were\ncrowned with chaplets of flowers; and their crooks were brilliantly\nstudded with precious stones. All the sheep were of surprising\nwhiteness; all the shepherdesses were young and handsome; and Lumineuse\nloved the colour of white too well to have forgotten to bestow on them\na complexion so beautiful that even the sun itself seemed to have only\nhelped to render it more dazzling. All the shepherds were amiable, and\nthe sole fault that could be found with this agreeable country was that\nthere was not a single brunette to be seen there. The shepherdesses\ncame to receive the Queen, and presented her with porcelain vases,\nfilled with the most beautiful flowers in the world. The Queen and all\nher Court were charmed with their agreeable journey, and drew from it a\nhappy presage of obtaining what she desired of the Fairy.\n\nAs she was about to leave the hamlet, a young shepherdess advanced\ntowards the Queen, and presented her with a little white greyhound on\na cushion of white velvet, embroidered with silver and pearls: it was\nhardly possible to distinguish the dog from the cushion, the colour\nwas so exactly the same. \"The Fairy Lumineuse, Sovereign of the Happy\nEmpire,\" said the young shepherdess to the Queen, \"has commanded me to\npresent you, in her name, with 'Blanc-blanc,' which is the name of this\nlittle greyhound; she has the honour of being beloved by Lumineuse,\nwhose art has made a marvel of her, and who has commanded her to\nconduct you to the tower. You will have nothing to do, Princess, but to\nlet her go, and follow.\"\n\nThe Queen received the little dog with much pleasure, and was charmed\nat the attentions shown her by the Fairy. She caressed Blanc-blanc,\nwho, after having returned her endearments with much intelligence and\ngrace, jumped lightly to the ground, and began to frisk before the\nQueen, who followed her with all her Court. They arrived at the bank\nof the river, which there made its sixth turn, and were surprised to\nfind no bridge by which to cross it. The Fairy did not wish to be\ntroubled by the shepherds in her retreat, so there was never a bridge\nat that point, except when she desired herself to pass or to receive\nany of her friends. The Queen was pondering on this adventure, when\nshe heard Blanc-blanc bark three times; immediately a light breeze\nagitated the trees on the banks of the river, and shook from them such\na great quantity of orange-flowers into the water, that they formed\na bridge of themselves, and the Queen crossed the river by it. She\nrewarded Blanc-blanc by caresses, and found herself in an avenue of\nmyrtles and orange-trees, which having traversed without any feeling\nof fatigue, although it was an immense length, she found herself again\non the bank of the river, which made its seventh turn at that spot.\nShe saw no bridge, but the adventure of the morning re-assured her.\nBlanc-blanc struck the ground three times with her little paw, and in\na moment there appeared a bridge of white hyacinths. The Queen crossed\nit, and entered a meadow enamelled with flowers. Her beautiful tents\nwere already pitched in it. She rested a short time, and then resumed\nher journey, till she again found herself on the bank of the river.\nThere was again no means of crossing it; but Blanc-blanc advanced and\ndrank a little of the beautiful stream, whereupon a bridge of white\nroses appeared, and the Queen was thereby enabled to enter the garden\nof the Fairy. It was so filled with wonderful flowers, extraordinary\nfountains, and statues of superior beauty, that it is impossible to\ngive an exact description of it. If the Queen had not felt the utmost\nimpatience to avert the evils with which the cruel Formidable menaced\nher, she would have lingered some time in this charming place. All the\nCourt left it with regret; but they were obliged to follow Blanc-blanc,\nwho conducted the Queen to the spot where the river made its last\ncircuit round the dwelling of Lumineuse. The Queen then saw the Palace\nof the Fairy quite near to her. Nothing but the river divided her from\nit. She gazed on it with pleasure as the goal of her journey, and read\nthis inscription, written on the tower in letters of gold:--\n\n    Of perfect bliss behold the charming seat,\n    By Lumineuse to pleasure dedicated.\n    Love only may not enter this retreat,\n    Although 'twould seem for Love alone created.\n\nThis inscription had been composed in honour of Lumineuse by the most\ncelebrated fairies of her time. They had wished to leave to posterity\nthe expression of their friendship and esteem for her. Whilst the Queen\nthus amused herself on the banks of the river, Blanc-blanc swam across\nthe stream, and diving brought up a shell of mother-of-pearl, which she\nagain let fall into the water. At this signal six beautiful nymphs,\nin brilliant attire, opened a large crystal window, and a staircase of\npearls issued from it and slowly approached the Queen. Blanc-blanc ran\nup it quickly, till the arrival at the window of the Fairy, and entered\nthe tower: the Queen followed, but as she ascended, the steps of the\npretty staircase which she had mounted disappeared behind her, and\nprevented any one else from following her. She entered the beautiful\ntower of Lumineuse, and the window was immediately closed.\n\nAll the suite of the Queen were in despair when they lost sight of\nher, and found they were unable to follow, for they loved her most\nsincerely; their lamentations were heard even in the place where\nLumineuse conversed with the Queen, and in order to re-assure these\nunfortunates, the Fairy sent one of her nymphs to conduct them to the\nhamlet, where they could await the return of the Queen. The staircase\nof pearls re-appeared and revived their hopes; the nymph descended,\nand the Queen from the window commanded them to follow and obey the\nmessenger. The Queen remained with the Fairy, who entertained her\nwith prodigious magnificence, and with a charm of manner which won\nall hearts. The Queen stayed with her for three days, which were not\nsufficient, however, for the inspection of all the marvels of the\ntower of Lumineuse; it would have taken centuries to see and admire\neverything which the Fairy had to show. The fourth day Lumineuse,\nafter having laden the Queen with presents as elegant as they were\nmagnificent, said to her, \"Beautiful Princess, I am sorry not to be\nable to repair the misfortune with which Formidable threatens you; but\nthat is the fault of destiny, which allows us to bestow good gifts\non those whom we favour, but forbids us to undo or avert the evils\ninflicted by other fairies. However, to console you for the misfortune\nthat has been predicted for you, I promise that before a year be over,\nyou shall have a daughter so beautiful that all those who behold her\nshall be enchanted with her, and I will take care,\" added the Fairy,\n\"to cause a Prince to be born who shall be worthy of her hand.\"\n\nSo favourable a prophecy made the Queen forget for a time the hatred of\nFormidable, and the misfortune she had threatened her with. Lumineuse\ndid not tell the Queen the reason of Formidable being her enemy.\nFairies, even when they quarrel amongst themselves, keep jealously\nsecret everything which would render them contemptible in the eyes of\nmortals, and 'tis said they are the only women who have the generosity\nnot to speak ill of one another. After a thousand thanks on the part\nof the Queen, Lumineuse ordered twelve of her nymphs to take charge\nof the presents, and to conduct the Queen to the hamlet, she herself\naccompanying her as far as the staircase of pearls, which appeared as\nsoon as they opened the window. When the Queen and nymphs were at the\nfoot of the stairs they saw a silver car drawn by six white hinds:\ntheir harness was covered with diamonds; a young child, lovely as the\nday, drove the car, and the nymphs followed on white horses which might\nhave vied in beauty with those of the sun. In this elegant equipage the\nQueen arrived at the hamlet; she there found all her Court, who were\nrejoiced to see her again; the nymphs then took leave of the Queen, and\npresented her with the twelve beautiful animals enchanted by the Fairy,\nso that they were never tired, informing her that Lumineuse begged she\nwould offer them in her name to the King. The Queen, overwhelmed by\nthe kindness of the Fairy, returned to her kingdom; the King met and\nreceived her at the frontier; he was so charmed at her return, and\nthe agreeable news which she announced on the part of Lumineuse, that\nhe ordered public rejoicings, the renown of which reached the ear of\nFormidable, and thereby redoubled her hate and anger against the King.\n\nSoon after the return of the Queen she found she was about to become\na mother, and felt assured that the beautiful Princess who was to\ncharm all hearts would be ere long presented to the King by her, for\nLumineuse had promised her birth should take place before the end of\nthe year, and Formidable had not prescribed the time when her vengeance\nshould be accomplished; but she had no idea of postponing it long. The\nQueen gave birth to two princesses, and did not doubt for a moment\nwhich was the daughter promised to her by Lumineuse, from the eagerness\nshe felt to embrace the one which first saw the light. She found her\nquite worthy of the praises of the Fairy; nothing in the world could\nbe so beautiful; the King and all who were present hastened to admire\nthe first-born little Princess, and they entirely forgot the other;\nbut the Queen, judging by the general neglect, that the prediction of\nFormidable was also accomplished, gave orders several times that the\nsame care should be taken of her as of the eldest.\n\nThe waiting-women obeyed with a repugnance which they could not\novercome, and for which the King and Queen dared scarcely blame them,\nas they felt the same themselves. Lumineuse arrived with all speed,\nupon a cloud, and named the beautiful Princess Aim\u00e9e, significant of\nthe destiny which she had promised her. The King paid Lumineuse all the\nrespect she deserved. She promised the Queen always to protect Aim\u00e9e,\nbut she bestowed on her no gift, for she had already given her all in\nher power. As for the other Princess, it was in vain that the King gave\nher the name of one of his provinces; insensibly every one accustomed\nthemselves to call her Naim\u00e9e, in cruel contradistinction to her sister\nAim\u00e9e. When the two Princesses had attained the age of twelve years,\nFormidable desired them to be sent away from the Court, in order,\nas she said, to diminish the love and the hate which they inspired.\nLumineuse let Formidable have her way; she was sure that nothing\nwould prevent the beautiful Aim\u00e9e from reigning in the kingdom of her\nfather, and in the hearts of his subjects. She had endowed her with\nsuch charms that no one could see her and have any doubt about it. The\nKing, in the hope of appeasing the hatred of Formidable, which extended\nto all his family, resolved to obey her. He therefore sent the two\nyoung Princesses, with a youthful and agreeable Court, to a marvellous\ncastle which he possessed in a remote part of his empire: it was called\nthe Castle of Portraits, and was a place worthy of the learned fairy\nwho had built it four thousand years before. The gardens and all the\npromenades surrounding it were lovely, but the most remarkable thing\nwas the gallery, of immense length, which contained portraits of all\nthe princes and princesses of the blood royal of that and all the\nneighbouring countries. As soon as they attained their fifteenth year\ntheir portraits were placed here, painted with an art which could be\nbut feebly imitated by any but a fairy. This custom was to be observed\nuntil the time when the most beautiful princess in all the world should\nenter the castle.\n\nThis gallery was divided into two vast and magnificent apartments: the\ntwo Princesses occupied them; they had the same masters, the same\neducation; they taught nothing to the charming Aim\u00e9e which was not also\ntaught to her sister; but Formidable came and instilled lessons into\nthe latter which spoilt all the rest, while Lumineuse, on her side,\nrendered Aim\u00e9e, by her instructions, worthy of the admiration of the\nwhole universe. After the Princesses had been in this castle, excluded\nfrom the Court for three years, they heard one day a strange noise,\nwhich was followed by the sound of charming music; they looked about\neverywhere to find from whence the noise and the concert proceeded,\nwhen they perceived three portraits occupying three places which a\nmoment before had been vacant. The first represented a lady being\ncrowned by two Cupids with flowers, one of whom regarded the beautiful\nportrait with all the attention it merited, and seemed to have\nforgotten to let fly an arrow at it which was fixed in his bent bow;\nthe other held a little streamer, on which were these verses:--\n\n    Aim\u00e9e received from Nature at her birth\n    Those beauties which immortal are, alone.\n    The Graces added loveliness to worth,\n    And Venus yielded up to her her zone.\n\nIt was not necessary to announce this as the portrait of the beautiful\nAim\u00e9e; one saw in it all her features depicted with that charming grace\nwhich attracted every heart; she had an exquisitely fair complexion,\nthe most beautiful colour in the world, a round face, lovely light\nhair, blue eyes, which shone with so much brightness that those who had\nthe pleasure of seeing them thought it useless that Lumineuse should\nhave bestowed on Aim\u00e9e a gift which she was sure of possessing from\nher own personal beauty: her mouth was charming, her teeth as white\nas her skin, and Venus seemed to have given her the power of smiling\nlike herself. It was this divine portrait which occupied the end of the\ngallery. The second was that of Naim\u00e9e: she was fair, and did not want\nbeauty; but notwithstanding, like the original, the portrait failed to\nplease. These words were inscribed beneath it in letters of gold:--\n\n    Naim\u00e9e, of more than common charms possest,\n    Can in no mortal heart a dwelling find.\n    Learn that in vain we are with beauty blest,\n    Wanting the rarer graces of the mind.\n\nThese two portraits occupied all the attention of the two Princesses\nand of their juvenile Court, when Aim\u00e9e, who was not proud of her own\npersonal charms, and leaving to the others the task of admiring them,\nturned her eyes towards the third portrait, which had appeared at the\nsame time with her own. She found it well worth looking at. It was that\nof a young Prince, a thousand times handsomer than Cupid himself; he\nhad more the air of a god than a mortal; his black hair fell in large\ncurls on his shoulders, and his eyes bespoke as much intelligence as\nhis person displayed manly beauty. These words were written underneath\nthe portrait:--\"This is the Prince of the Pleasant Island.\" Its beauty\nsurprised everybody, but it affected the lovely Aim\u00e9e particularly--her\nyoung heart experienced an unknown emotion; and Naim\u00e9e even, at the\nsight of this handsome portrait, found she was not exempt from a\npassion which she could not herself inspire. The adventure itself did\nnot so much astonish any one, for they were accustomed to see wonderful\nthings in that country. The King and Queen came to the Castle to visit\nthe Princesses, and had a great many copies made of their portraits,\nwhich they sent to all the neighbouring kingdoms. But Aim\u00e9e, as soon as\nshe was alone, carried away by an involuntary impulse, returned to the\ngallery of portraits, where that of the Prince of the Pleasant Island\nengrossed all her attention, and was every way worthy of it.\n\nNaim\u00e9e, who had nothing in common with her sister, save an equal\nadmiration of the portrait of the Prince, also passed nearly all her\ntime in the gallery. This growing passion so increased the hatred of\nNaim\u00e9e for her sister, that not being able herself to injure her, she\nincessantly implored the fairy Formidable to punish her for possessing\nsuperior charms. The cruel Fairy never neglected an opportunity of\ndoing harm; so, following her own inclination, while yielding to the\nsolicitations of Naim\u00e9e, she went in search of the amiable Princess,\nwho was walking on the bank of the river which flowed at the foot\nof the Castle of Portraits: \"Go!\" said Formidable to her, touching\nher with an ebony wand which she carried in her hand,--\"Go! Follow\ncontinually the winding of this river, until the day when thou shalt\nmeet a person who hates thee more than I do, and until that hour\nthou shalt not stop to rest in any place in the world!\" The Princess,\nat this terrible order, began to weep. Such tears! In all the\nuniverse no heart but that of Formidable could be found incapable of\nbeing softened by them. Lumineuse hastened to the assistance of the\nbeautiful and unhappy Aim\u00e9e. \"Be comforted,\" said she; \"the journey to\nwhich Formidable has condemned thee shall terminate in a delightful\nadventure, and during it thou shalt have nothing but pleasure.\" Aim\u00e9e,\nafter this favourable prediction, departed with one single regret,\nwhich was that she should see no more the beautiful portrait of the\nPrince of the Pleasant Island; but she dared not express her sorrow\nto the Fairy. She therefore set out on her journey, and everything\nappeared sensible of her charms. None but the gentlest airs breathed\nin the places through which she passed. Everywhere she found nymphs\nready to wait on her with the utmost respect; the meadows were covered\nwith flowers at her approach; and when the sun became too powerful, the\ntrees increased their foliage to protect her from its beams.\n\nWhile the beautiful Princess made so pleasant a journey, Lumineuse\ndid not merely limit her exertions to neutralizing the evil designs\nof Formidable; she sought Naim\u00e9e, and striking her with an ivory\nwand--\"Begone!\" said she. \"Follow in thy turn the banks of the river,\nand never shalt thou rest until thou shalt find a person who loves thee\nas much as thou deservest to be hated!\" Naim\u00e9e departed, and no one\nregretted her absence.\n\nEven Formidable, who was always well pleased when she caused pain,\nthought no more of Naim\u00e9e, and did not condescend to protect her any\nlonger. The two Princesses thus continued their journey, Naim\u00e9e with\nall the fatigue possible, the most beautiful flowers changing into\nthorns in her path; and the lovely Princess, with all the pleasures\nwhich Lumineuse had led her to hope for,--indeed, she found them still\ngreater than she had expected.\n\nAt the close of a beautiful day, at the hour when the sun sank to rest\nin the arms of Thetis, Aim\u00e9e seated herself on the bank of the river.\nImmediately an infinite number of flowers, springing up around her,\nformed a sort of couch, the charms of which she would have admired\nfor a much longer time had she not perceived an object on the river\nwhich prevented her from thinking of anything else; it was a little\nboat made of amethyst, ornamented with a thousand streamers of the same\ncolour, inscribed with cyphers and gallant devices. Twelve young men,\nclothed in light garments of grey and silver, crowned with garlands\nof amaranths, rowed with so much diligence, that the boat was very\nsoon sufficiently close to the shore to allow Aim\u00e9e to remark its\nvarious beauties. It was with a feeling of agreeable surprise that\nshe perceived in every part of it her name and her initials. A moment\nafter, the Princess recognised her portrait upon a little altar of\ntopaz, raised in the centre of the boat; and beneath the portrait she\nread these words.\n\n \"If this be not love, what is it?\"\n\nAfter the first emotion of surprise and admiration, she feared to see\nthe stranger land who appeared to be so very gallant. \"Everything\ninforms me of the love of an unknown admirer,\" said Aim\u00e9e to herself;\n\"but I feel that the Prince of the Pleasant Island is alone worthy\nto inspire me with that sentiment which I too plainly perceive is\nentertained for me by another. Fatal portrait!\" she exclaimed; \"why did\ndestiny present it to my view at a time when, so far from defending\nmyself from its influence, I was even ignorant that it was possible to\nlove anything more tenderly than flowers.\"\n\nThis reflection was followed by many sighs, and she would have remained\nlonger buried in her sweet reverie, if the agreeable sound of divers\ninstruments had not roused her from it. She looked towards the boat\nfrom whence these pleasing sounds proceeded. A man, whose face she\ncould not see, clothed in a robe of that same magnificent colour which\nwas displayed in his entire equipage, appeared to be entirely occupied\nin the contemplation of her portrait, whilst six beautiful nymphs\nformed a charming concert, and accompanied these words, which were sung\nby him who did not take his eyes off the picture of the Princess. The\nair was Duboulai's:--[10]\n\n    Let all things witness to my passion bear,\n    And vaunt the beauties of my matchless fair!\n    Aim\u00e9e more charms than Venus' self displays!\n    Ye Nymphs in turn your tuneful voices raise.\n    Let all things witness to my passion bear,\n    And vaunt the beauties of my matchless fair!\n\n    The Graces gladly quit the Queen of Love\n    To follow one whose smile far more they prize.\n    To see and serve her is a bliss above\n    All that the gods can offer in the skies.\n    Aim\u00e9e more charms, &c.\n\n    One glance from her sweet eyes my heart subdued.\n    All yield to her! all to her empire bow!\n    And till the moment man her beauty viewed\n    None could have loved as all the world must now!\n    Aim\u00e9e more charms, &c.\n\nThe sweetness of the music detained the beautiful Aim\u00e9e on the bank of\nthe river. When it was finished, the stranger turned his face towards\nher, and enabled her to recognise, with as much confusion as pleasure,\nthe agreeable features of the Prince of the Pleasant Island. What a\nsurprise, what joy to see this charming Prince, and to find he thought\nof nothing but her! One must know how to love as they did in the days\nof the Fairies, to understand all that the young Princess felt.\n\nThe Prince of the Pleasant Island was equally astonished. He hastened\nto land on the fortunate shore which presented to his view the divine\nAim\u00e9e. She had not the heart to fly from so perfect a prince, though\nshe upbraided fate a thousand times for her own weakness. On such\noccasions fate generally bears the blame.\n\nIt is impossible to express what the young lovers said to each other.\nOften, indeed, they understood each other without speaking. Lumineuse,\nwho had conducted to this place both the pretty boat and the steps of\nAim\u00e9e, appeared all at once to re-assure the timid Princess, who had at\nlength made up her mind to avoid so charming and dangerous a Prince.\nShe told them that they were destined to love each other, and to be for\never united. \"But,\" added the Fairy, \"before this happy time arrives,\nyou must finish the journey commanded by Formidable.\"\n\nIt is impossible to disobey the Fairies; so the beautiful Aim\u00e9e and\nthe Prince were satisfied with the pleasure of being together, and\nfelt that anything which did not separate them was only too delightful.\nThey continued, therefore, their route, sometimes in the pretty boat,\nsometimes wandering on foot through a vast, but beautiful wilderness,\nwhich the river fertilized with its waters. It was in this tranquil\nseclusion that the Prince of the Pleasant Island completely lost his\npeace of mind. He informed the beautiful Princess of all he had felt\nfor her since the happy day when her divine portrait had been brought\nto his Court, and that one morning as he was walking on the banks of\nthe river, and dreaming of her, Lumineuse had appeared, and, showing\nhim the amethyst boat, commanded him to embark in it, promising him\nsuccess in his voyage and a favourable issue to his love. Whilst the\nPrince and the beautiful Aim\u00e9e obeyed the orders of Formidable, their\naffection increased each day. They became so happy, that they dreaded\narriving at the end of their journey, for fear of being occupied with\nanything else but their love. Naim\u00e9e, meanwhile, also continued her\npainful progress.\n\nThe course of the river which the two Princesses followed conducted\nthem insensibly to the Pleasant Island, and they arrived there exactly\nat the same moment. Lumineuse did not fail to be present also. She\ninformed Aim\u00e9e that the revenge of Formidable was accomplished,\nbecause, in meeting her sister, she had found the only person in the\nworld who could hate her. \"And the journey of Naim\u00e9e is also finished,\nthen,\" said the beautiful Princess, \"for nothing has been able to\ndiminish my regard for her.\" She then begged the Fairy to mitigate, if\npossible, the sad fate of her sister; but this favour was useless to\nNaim\u00e9e. The moment she saw the Prince of the Pleasant Island, whom she\nrecognised easily as the original of the exquisite portrait which had\ntouched her heart, and heard him tell Lumineuse that the time of his\nmarriage with Aim\u00e9e approached, she threw herself into that river, the\ncourse of which she had followed for twelve months with so much pain,\nyet without having resorted to self-destruction; but the woes of love\naffect us more deeply than any other misfortunes.\n\nLumineuse, who saw the Princess plunge into the water, changed her\ninto a little animal, which evinces still, by its manner of walking,\nthe contrariness of the unhappy Naim\u00e9e. Her fate followed her even\nafter death, for she was not regretted. It cost Aim\u00e9e, however, a few\ntears; but what troubles could not be consoled by the Prince of the\nPleasant Island? She was so engrossed by his affection, that she cared\nbut little for the f\u00eates which they gave to celebrate her arrival in\nthe kingdom, and the Prince himself took but a trifling share in them.\nWhen one is really in love, there is no true pleasure but that of being\nloved in return.\n\nThe King and Queen, apprised by Lumineuse of what had occurred,\nhastened to rejoin their amiable daughter; and in their presence the\ngenerous Fairy declared that the lovely Aim\u00e9e had had the honour of\nputting an end to the adventure of the Castle of Portraits, because\nnothing had ever appeared so beautiful as herself in all the world.\n\nThe love of the Prince of the Pleasant Island was too violent to endure\ndelay, so he begged the King and Queen to consent to the fulfilment of\nhis happiness. Lumineuse herself honoured with her presence a day so\nfair and so much desired. The nuptials were celebrated with all the\nmagnificence which might be expected from fairies and kings; but happy\nas was the day, I will not attempt a description of it, for, however\nagreeable to the lovers themselves, a wedding is almost always a dull\naffair to the general company.\n\n    While Love in turn upon the tender strings\n    Of human hearts with hope and fear can play,\n    Lovers and poets have a thousand things,\n    More or less sweet and eloquent, to say.\n    But soon as entered Hymen's happy state\n    Apollo and the Muses all seem dumb.\n    Of author and of husband 'tis the fate\n    To fail in an Epithalamium!\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[10] A Michel Duboulay, or Duboulai, was the author of two\noperas, entitled, _Zephyr et Flore_ and _Orph\u00e9e_; but the music of\nthese is said to have been composed by Lulli.\n\n\n\n\nMADEMOISELLE DE LA FORCE.\n\n\n\n\nFAIRER THAN A FAIRY.\n\n\nThere was once upon a time, in Europe, a King, who having already\nseveral children by a princess whom he had married, took it into his\nhead to travel from one end of his kingdom to the other. He passed\nhis time in visiting one province after another very pleasantly; but\nwhile he was staying in a beautiful castle at the extremity of his\ndominions, the Queen, his wife, was brought to bed there of a daughter,\nwho appeared so exceedingly lovely at the moment of her birth, that the\ncourtiers, either on account of the child's beauty, or to ingratiate\nthemselves with the parents, named her \"Fairer than a Fairy;\" and it\nwill be seen how well she merited so illustrious a title. The Queen\nhad scarcely recovered, when she was obliged to follow the King, her\nhusband, who had departed in haste to defend a distant province which\nhis enemies had invaded.\n\nLittle Fairer than a Fairy was left behind with her governess and the\nladies who attended on her; they brought her up with the utmost care,\nand as her father was involved in a long and cruel war, she had plenty\nof time during his absence to increase in stature and beauty. That\nbeauty rendered her famous in all the surrounding countries; nothing\nelse was spoken of, and at twelve years old she might more easily be\ntaken for a divinity than for a mortal. One of her brothers came to see\nher during a truce, and conceived the most perfect affection for her.\n\nMeanwhile, however, the fame of her beauty and the name she bore so\nirritated the fairies against her, that there was nothing they did not\nthink of to revenge themselves on her, for the presumption implied by\nsuch a title, and to destroy a beauty of which they were so jealous.\n\nThe Queen of the Fairies was not one of those good fairies who are\nthe protectors of virtue, and who have no pleasure but in doing good.\nMany centuries having elapsed since she had attained royalty by her\nprofound learning and art, her great age had caused her to dwindle in\nstature, and she was now only called by the nickname of Nabote. Nabote\naccordingly summoned a council, and made known to them her resolution\nto avenge, not only the beauties of her own court, but those of the\nentire world; that she had determined to go and see for herself, and\ncarry off this paragon whose reputation was so injurious to their\ncharms. It was no sooner said than done. She set out, and, clothed in a\nvery plain garb, transported herself to the castle which contained this\nmarvellous creature. She soon made herself at home in it, and induced\nby her cunning the ladies of the Princess to receive her amongst them.\nBut Nabote was struck with astonishment when, after having carefully\nexamined the castle, she discovered by means of her art that it had\nbeen constructed by a great magician, and that he had endowed it with\na virtue by the power of which no one could leave its walls or the\nsurrounding pleasure-grounds but of their own free will, and that\nit was not possible to use any sort of enchantment against those\npersons who inhabited it. This secret was not unknown to the governess\nof Fairer than a Fairy, who, well aware of the invaluable treasure\ncommitted to her charge, still felt no alarm on her account, knowing\nthat no one in the world could take from her this young princess,\nso long as she should not go outside the castle or the gardens. She\nhad expressly forbidden her to do so, and Fairer, who had already a\nlarge share of discretion, had never failed in taking this precaution.\nA thousand lovers had made fruitless efforts to carry her off; but\nknowing herself secure within those limits, she did not fear their\nviolence.\n\nNabote did not require much time to insinuate herself into her good\ngraces; she taught her to do beautiful kinds of work, and rendered her\nlessons agreeable by recounting pleasant stories. She neglected nothing\nwhich could divert her, and naturally pleased her so much, that at\nlength one was never seen without the other.\n\nAmidst all her attentions, however, Nabote was not less occupied with\nher schemes of revenge; she sought for an opportunity of inducing\nFairer than a Fairy, by some cunning pretence, only to put her foot\nover the threshold of one of the castle gates. She was always prepared\nto pounce on and fly away with her. One day that she had led her into\nthe garden, and the young maidens of her Court, having gathered some\nflowers, had crowned with them the beautiful head of Fairer than a\nFairy, Nabote opened a little door which led into the fields, and\npassing out at it, played an hundred antics, which caused the Princess\nand the young folks who surrounded her to laugh heartily. All at once\nthe wicked Nabote pretended to be taken ill, and the next minute she\nfell down, as if swooning away. Some of the young maidens ran to assist\nher, and Fairer flew also to her side. But hardly had the unhappy child\npassed the fatal gate than Nabote sprang up, seized her with a powerful\narm, and making a circle with her wand, a thick black fog arose, which\ndispersing again almost immediately, the ground was seen to open\nand two moles emerged, with wings formed of rose-leaves, drawing an\nebony car, and Nabote placing herself in it with Fairer than a Fairy,\nit ascended into the air, and cleaving it with incredible velocity,\ndisappeared entirely from the sight of the young maidens, who by their\ncries and tears soon announced to all the castle the loss they had\nsustained.\n\nFairer than a Fairy only recovered from her first astonishment to\nfall into another still more fearful; the rapidity with which the car\npassed through the air had so bewildered her that she almost lost\nconsciousness; at length, reviving a little, she cast down her eyes.\nWhat was her alarm to find nothing beneath her but the vast extent of\nthe shoreless ocean. She uttered a piercing cry, turned round, and\nseeing near her her dear Nabote, she embraced her tenderly and held her\nclose in her arms as one naturally would to re-assure oneself. But the\nFairy repulsed her rudely:--\"Off! audacious child,\" said she. \"Behold\nin me your mortal foe. I am the Queen of the Fairies, and you are about\nto pay to me the penalty of your insolence in assuming the proud name\nwhich you bear.\"\n\nFairer, trembling at these words more than if a thunderbolt had fallen\nat her feet, felt greater alarm at them than at the dreadful road she\nwas travelling. At length, however, the car alighted in the midst\nof the magnificent court-yard of the most superb palace that ever\nwas seen. The sight of so beautiful a palace somewhat re-assured the\ntimid Princess, especially when she descended from the car, and she\nsaw an hundred young beauties, who came with much deference to pay\ntheir respects to the Fairy. So charming a residence did not appear to\nannounce misfortune to her. She had also one consolation which does\nnot fail to flatter one in similar situations: she remarked that all\nthose beautiful persons were struck with admiration on beholding her,\nand she heard a confused murmur of praise and envy which gratified her\nmarvellously.\n\nBut how speedily was this little feeling of vanity extinguished! Nabote\nimperiously commanded them to strip Fairer of her beautiful clothes,\nthinking thereby to take from her a portion of her charms. They pulled\nthem off, accordingly, but only to increase the fury of Nabote, for\nwhat beauties were then disclosed to view, and to what shame did they\nput all the fairies in the world! They re-clothed her in old shabby\ngarments. But in this state, one would have said her natural and\nsimple loveliness was determined to show how independent it was of the\nassistance of the most costly ornaments; never did she appear more\ncharming! Nabote then ordered them to conduct her to the place which\nshe had prepared for her, and to set her her task. Two fairies took her\nand made her pass through the most beautiful and sumptuous apartments\nthat could possibly be seen. Fairer noticed them, in spite of her\nmisery, and said to herself, \"Whatever torments they may prepare for\nme, my heart tells me I shall not always be miserable in this beautiful\npalace.\"\n\nThey made her descend a large staircase of black marble, which had more\nthan a thousand steps: she thought she was going into the bowels of\nthe earth, or rather, that they were conducting her into the infernal\nregions. At length they entered a small cabinet, wainscoted with ebony,\nwhere they told her she would have to sleep on a little straw, and that\nthere was an ounce of bread with a cup of water for her supper. From\nthence they made her pass into a great gallery, the walls of which\nwere entirely composed of black marble, and which had no light but\nthat afforded by five lamps of jet, which threw a sombre glare over\nthe place, more alarming than cheering. These gloomy walls were hung\nwith cobwebs from top to bottom, and such was their peculiarity, that\nthe more they were swept away the more they multiplied. The two fairies\ntold the Princess that this gallery must be swept clean by break of\nday, or that she would be made to suffer the most frightful torments,\nand after placing a ladder, and giving her a broom of rushes, they bade\nher set to work, and left her.\n\nFairer than a Fairy sighed, and not knowing the peculiarity of those\ncobwebs, courageously resolved, notwithstanding the great length of\nthe gallery, to execute the task imposed on her. She took her broom,\nand mounted the ladder nimbly, but, O Heavens! what was her surprise\nwhen, as she endeavoured to sweep the marble and clear off the cobwebs,\nshe found they increased in proportion to her exertions! She fatigued\nherself by persevering for some time, but perceiving sorrowfully, at\nlength, that it was all in vain, she threw down her broom, descended\nthe ladder, and seating herself on the last step of it, began to weep\nbitterly, and to foresee the extent of her misfortune. Her sobs came\nat length so fast that she could no longer support herself, when,\nraising her head a little, her eyes were dazzled by a brilliant light.\nThe gallery was in an instant illuminated from end to end, and she saw\nkneeling before her a youth so beautiful and charming, that at the\nfirst glance she took him for Cupid, but she remembered that Love is\nalways painted naked, and this handsome youth was dressed in a suit\nof clothes covered with jewels. She was not sure, also, that all the\nlight she perceived did not proceed from his eyes, so beautiful and\nbrilliant did they appear to her. This young man continued to gaze upon\nher, still kneeling. She felt inclined to kneel too. \"Who art thou?\"\nshe exclaimed, in amazement. \"Art thou a God? Art thou Love?\" \"I am not\na God,\" he replied, \"but I have more love in me than is to be found in\nheaven or earth beside. I am Phratis, son of the Queen of the Fairies,\nwho loves you and will aid you.\" Then, taking up the broom which she\nhad thrown down, he touched all the cobwebs, which immediately turned\nto cloth-of-gold of marvellous workmanship, the lamps becoming bright\nand shining; Phratis then, giving a golden key to the Princess, said,\n\"In the principal panel of your cell you will find a lock; open it\ngently. Adieu, I must retire for fear of being suspected: go to rest;\nyou will find all that is necessary for your repose.\" Then placing one\nknee on the ground, he respectfully kissed her hand and disappeared.\n\nFairer, more surprised at this adventure than at anything else which\nhad happened to her during the day, re-entered her little apartment,\nand looked about for the lock of which he had spoken, when, on\napproaching the wainscot, she heard the most gentle voice in the\nworld apparently deploring some misfortune, and she imagined it must\nproceed from some wretched being persecuted as she was. She listened\nattentively. \"Alas! what shall I do?\" said the voice. \"They bid me\nchange this bushel of acorns into oriental pearls!\" Fairer than a\nFairy, less astonished than she would have been two hours before,\nstruck two or three times on the panel, and said pretty loudly, \"If\nthey impose hard tasks in this place, miracles are at the same time\nperformed here--therefore, hope! But tell me, I pray, who you are, and\nI will tell you who I am.\" \"It is more agreeable to me to satisfy your\ncuriosity than to continue my employment,\" replied the other person.\n\"I am the daughter of a King; they say I was born charming, but the\nfairies did not assist at my birth, and you know they are cruel to\nthose whom they have not taken under their protection directly they\ncome into the world.\" \"Ah! I know it too well,\" replied Fairer; \"I\nam handsome, like yourself, the daughter of a King, and unfortunate,\nbecause I am agreeable without the assistance of their gifts.\" \"We\nare, then, companions in misfortune,\" returned the other. \"But are\nyou in love?\" \"Not far from it,\" said Fairer, in a low voice; \"but\ncontinue your story,\" said she aloud, \"and do not question me more.\"\n\"I was considered,\" continued the other, \"the most charming creature\nthat had ever existed, and everybody loved me and wished to possess\nme: they called me D\u00e9sirs; my will was law, and I was treasured in\nall hearts. A young prince, the most enthusiastic of my adorers,\nabandoned everything for me. My encouragement of his hopes transported\nhim with delight. We were about to be united for ever, when the\nfairies, jealous at beholding me the object of universal admiration,\nand detesting the sight of attractions which they had not bestowed,\ncarried me off one day in the midst of my triumphs, and consigned me\nto this horrid place. They have threatened that they will strangle me\nto-morrow morning if I have not performed a preposterous task which\nthey have imposed upon me. Now, tell me quickly, who are you?\" \"I have\ntold you all,\" replied Fairer, \"but my name. They call me Fairer than\na Fairy.\" \"You must, then, be very beautiful,\" replied the Princess\nD\u00e9sirs; \"I should like excessively to see you.\" \"I am quite as anxious\nto see you,\" replied Fairer. \"Is there a door hereabouts, for I have\na little key which perhaps may be of use to you.\" Looking narrowly\nround, she discovered one which she was able to open, and pushing it,\nthe two Princesses met face to face, and were equally surprised at the\nmarvellous beauty of each other.\n\nAfter embracing affectionately, and saying many civil things to\none another, Fairer began to laugh at seeing the Princess D\u00e9sirs\ncontinually rubbing her acorns with a little white stone, as she had\nbeen ordered to do. She told her of the task which they had imposed\nupon her, and how miraculously she had been assisted by a charming\nunknown being! \"But who can it be?\" said the Princess D\u00e9sirs. \"I think\nit is a man,\" replied Fairer. \"A man!\" cried D\u00e9sirs. \"You blush--you\nlove him!\" \"No, not yet,\" replied Fairer; \"but he has told me he loves\nme; and if he loves me as he says, he shall assist you.\" Hardly had\nshe uttered these words, when the bushel measure began to shake, and\nagitating the acorns, as the oak on which they had grown might have\ndone, they were instantly changed into the most beautiful pear-shaped\npearls of the first water. It was one of these which Cleopatra\ndissolved in wine at the costly banquet she made for Mark Antony.\n\nThe two Princesses were delighted at the exchange, and Fairer than a\nFairy, who began to be accustomed to wonders, leading D\u00e9sirs by the\nhand, returned into her own chamber, and finding the panel containing\nthe lock of which the stranger had spoken, she opened it with her\ngolden key, and entered an apartment, the magnificence of which both\nsurprised and affected her, as she saw in everything it contained the\nattention of her lover. It was strewn with the most beautiful flowers,\nand exhaled a divine perfume. At one end of this charming room there\nwas a table covered with all that could gratify the most refined taste,\nand two fountains of liqueurs which flowed into basins of porphyry.\nThe young Princesses seated themselves in two ivory chairs, enriched\nwith emeralds; they ate with a good appetite, and when they had supped,\nthe table disappeared, and in its place arose a delicious bath, into\nwhich they stepped together. At a few paces from them they observed\na superb toilet-table, and large baskets of gold wire full of linen\nof such exquisite purity that it made them long to make use of it. A\nbed of singular form and extraordinary richness, occupied the further\nend of this marvellous chamber, which was lined with orange-trees in\ngolden boxes studded with rubies, while rows of cornelian columns\nsustained the sumptuous roof, divided only by immense crystal mirrors\nwhich reached from the ground to the ceiling. Several consoles, of rare\nmaterials, supported vases of precious stones, filled with all sorts of\nflowers.\n\nThe Princess D\u00e9sirs admired the good fortune of her companion,\nand, turning to her, observed, \"Your lover is indeed gallant; he\ncan do much, and he will do everything for you; your happiness is\nextraordinary.\" A clock striking midnight repeated at each stroke the\nname of Phratis. Fairer than a Fairy coloured, and threw herself on the\ncouch. She trusted to repose, but her sleep was troubled by the image\nof Phratis.\n\nThe next morning there was great astonishment in the Court of\nthe Fairies at seeing the gallery so richly decorated, and the\nbushel-measure full of beautiful pearls. They had hoped to punish the\nyoung Princesses: their cruelty was disappointed. They found each\nalone in her little chamber. After consulting together again, in order\nto devise some tasks which could not possibly be accomplished, they\ntold D\u00e9sirs to go to the sea-shore and write on the sand, with express\norders to take care that what she wrote there could never be effaced.\nAnd they commanded Fairer to go to the foot of Mount Adventurous, to\nfly to the top, and bring them a vase full of the water of immortality.\nFor this purpose they gave her a quantity of feathers and wax, in\nhopes that, by making wings for herself, she might perish like another\nIcarus. D\u00e9sirs and Fairer looked at each other on hearing these\ndreadful commands, and, embracing tenderly, they separated, as if\ntaking an eternal farewell. The fairies conducted one to the sea-shore\nand the other to the foot of Mount Adventurous.\n\nWhen Fairer was left by herself she took the feathers and wax, and\nmade some vain attempts to form wings with them. After having worked\nfor some time most ineffectually, her thoughts reverted to Phratis. \"If\nyou loved me,\" said she, \"you would come to my assistance.\" Hardly had\nshe finished the last word when she saw him stand before her, looking\na thousand times more beautiful than on the preceding night. The full\nlight of day was an advantage to him. \"Do you doubt my affection?\" said\nhe. \"Is anything difficult to him who loves you?\" He then requested\nher to take off some portion of her dress, and having kissed her hand\nas a recompense, he transformed himself suddenly to an eagle. She was\nrather sorry to see so charming a person thus metamorphosed, but,\nplacing himself at her feet, he extended his wings, and made her easily\ncomprehend his design. Reclining upon him, she encircled his proud neck\nwith her beautiful arms, and he rose with her gently into the air.\nIt would be difficult to say which was the most gratified--she, at\nescaping death in the execution of the order given her, or he, at being\npermitted to bear such a precious burden.\n\nHe carried her gently to the summit of the mountain, where she heard\nan harmonious concert warbled by a thousand birds that came to render\nhomage to the divine bird which bore her. The top of this mountain was\na flowery plain, surrounded by fine cedars, in the midst of which was a\nlittle stream, whose silvery waves rolled over golden sands strewn with\nbrilliant diamonds. Fairer than a Fairy knelt down, and first of all\ntook some of this precious water in her hand, and drank it. After this\nshe filled her vase, and, turning towards her eagle, said, \"Ah, how I\nwish that D\u00e9sirs had some of this water!\" Scarcely had she spoken these\nwords than the Eagle flew down, took one of the slippers of Fairer,\nand returning with it, filled it with water, and carried it to the\nsea-shore, where the Princess D\u00e9sirs was occupied in fruitless attempts\nto write indelibly on the sand.\n\nThe Eagle returned to Fairer, and resumed his beautiful burden. \"Alas!\"\nsaid she, \"what is D\u00e9sirs doing? Take me to her.\" He obeyed. They found\nher still writing, and as fast as she wrote, a wave came and effaced\nwhat she had written. \"What cruelty,\" said the Princess to Fairer,\n\"to command what it is impossible to accomplish! I imagine, from the\nstrange mode of your conveyance, that you have succeeded.\" Fairer\nalighted, and, moved by the misfortune of her companion, she turned\ntowards her lover, and thus addressed him, \"Give me proof of your\nomnipotence.\" \"Or rather of my love,\" interrupted the Prince, resuming\nhis proper form. D\u00e9sirs, observing the beauty and grace of his person,\ncast on him a look of surprise and delight. Fairer coloured, and by\na movement over which she had no control, placed herself before him\nso as to hide him from her companion. \"Do as you are told,\" continued\nshe, with a charming air of uneasiness. Phratis knew his happiness, and\nwishing to terminate as speedily as possible her trouble, \"Read,\" said\nhe, and disappeared swifter than a flash of lightning.\n\nAt the same instant a wave broke at the feet of Fairer, and in retiring\nleft behind a brazen tablet, as firmly fixed in the sand as if it had\nbeen there from all eternity, and would remain immovable to the end of\nthe world. As she looked at it, she perceived letters forming on it,\ndeeply engraved, which composed these lines:--\n\n    The vows of common love in sand are traced,\n    And, even 'graved in brass, may be effaced;\n    But those which are inspired by your bright eyes,\n    In starry words are written in the skies.\n    Nought can destroy those characters divine,\n    Eternal as the heavens in which they shine.\n\n\"I understand,\" cried D\u00e9sirs: \"he who loves you, must always love!\nHow well your charming swain expresses his feelings.\" She then\nembraced Fairer than a Fairy, who soon, in her arms, recovered from\nthe confusion occasioned by the little feeling of jealousy she had\nexperienced, and confessed it to her friend, who accused her of it;\nand both, confirmed in their friendship, abandoned themselves to the\npleasure of an agreeable and affectionate conversation.\n\nQueen Nabote sent messengers to the foot of the mountain to find what\nwas become of Fairer than a Fairy. They found the scattered feathers,\nand a part of her clothes, and consequently believed she had been\ndashed to pieces, as they desired.\n\nFull of this idea, the fairies ran to the sea-shore; they exclaimed at\nthe sight of the brazen tablet, and were overwhelmed at perceiving the\ntwo Princesses calmly seated in conversation on a jutting piece of\nrock. They called to them. Fairer presented her vase full of the water\nof immortality, and laughed in secret with D\u00e9sirs at the fury of the\nfairies.\n\nThe Queen was not to be jested with. She knew that a power as great\nas her own must have assisted them, and her rage increased to such a\npitch, that without hesitating an instant, she determined on effecting\ntheir ruin by a final and most cruel trial.\n\nD\u00e9sirs was condemned to go on the morrow to the Fair of Time, to fetch\nthe Rouge of Youth, and Fairer than a Fairy to proceed to the Wood of\nWonders, and capture the Hind with Silver Feet.\n\nThe Princess D\u00e9sirs was conducted to a vast plain, at the end of which\nwas an immense building, divided into galleries full of shops so superb\nthat no comparison could be found for them but in the recollections of\nthe magnificent entertainments at Marly.[11] These shops were kept by\nyoung and agreeable fairies, assisted by their favoured lovers.\n\nAs soon as D\u00e9sirs appeared, her charms fascinated everybody. She took\npossession of all hearts. In the first shops she entered she excited\nmuch commiseration by asking for the Rouge of Youth. None would tell\nher where to find it, because, when it was not a fairy who came in\nsearch of it, it was a sure sign of torment to the person who was\ncharged with this dangerous commission. The good fairies told D\u00e9sirs\nto return, and to inquire no further for what she sought. She was so\nbeautiful that they ran before her wherever she went, in order to gaze\nat her. Her ill-luck, however, led her to the shop of a wicked fairy.\nHardly had she asked for the Rouge of Youth, on the part of the Queen\nof the Fairies, than, darting a terrible glance at her, she told her\nthat she had it, and that she would give it her the next morning, and\nordered her to enter a room and wait till it was prepared for her. They\nled her into a dark and pestilential place, where she could not see her\nhand before her. She was overcome with terror. \"Ah!\" she exclaimed,\n\"charming lover of Fairer than a Fairy, haste to my rescue, or I am\nlost!\"\n\nBut he was deaf to her appeal, or unable to act as he had done in\nother places. D\u00e9sirs tormented herself half the night and slept the\nremainder, when she was awakened by a good-looking girl, who brought\nher a little food, telling her that it was sent her by the favourite\nof the Fairy, her mistress, who was resolved to assist her, and that\nit would be fortunate for her if such were the case, because the Fairy\nhad sent for an evil spirit, who, by breathing on her face, would make\nher hideous, and in that frightful state she would be ignominiously\nsent back to the Queen of the Fairies, who, with all her Court, would\ntriumph in her misfortunes.\n\nThe Princess D\u00e9sirs felt frightened to death at this threat of losing\nin a moment all her beauty, and wished rather to die outright. Her\nagony was horrible; she groped about her dark prison in vain hope of\ndiscovering some mode of escape, when some one took her by the arm,\nand she felt in her heart a sensation of pleasure. She was gently led\ntowards a spot where she began to perceive a little light, and when\nher eyes became accustomed to it, she was struck by the appearance\nof what was to her the most charming object in the world, for she\nrecognised that dear Prince who loved her so truly, and from whom\nthey had separated her on the eve of her wedding. Her transport, her\ndelight, was extreme. \"Is it you?\" she exclaimed a hundred times.\nAt length, when fully persuaded of the fact, and forgetting all her\nown troubles--\"But are you the favourite of this wretched Fairy?\"\nshe continued. \"Is it with this fine title that I again behold you.\"\n\"Undoubtedly,\" replied he; \"and we shall owe to it the end of our\ntroubles, and the certainty of our happiness.\"\n\nHe then recounted to her how, in despair at her being carried off, he\nhad gone to seek a wise old man, who had informed him where she was,\nand assured him that he would never recover her but in the Kingdom\nof the Fairies; that he had furnished him with the means of finding\nit, but that he had been arrested in his pursuit of her by this cruel\nFairy, who had fallen in love with him; that, following the advice of\nthe sage, he had dissembled, and by his docility had obtained such an\ninfluence over her, that he had the care of all her treasure, and was\nthe minister of all her power; that she had just departed on a journey\nof six thousand leagues; that she would not return for twelve days;\nand that, therefore, they should lose no time in escaping; that he\nwas going into his cabinet to fetch a part of the gem of the ring of\nGyges[12]; that she should put it on, and thereby becoming invisible,\nshe could pass anywhere: as for himself, he could show himself as he\npleased. \"Do not forget,\" said she, \"the Rouge of Youth; I wish to put\nsome on, and to give some to one of my companions.\"\n\nThe Prince smiled. \"Whither shall we go?\" continued she. \"To the Queen\nof the Fairies,\" he replied. \"No, that will never do,\" she exclaimed;\n\"we shall perish there!\" \"The sage who counselled me,\" pursued he,\n\"told me to lead you back to the place from whence you came last, if\nI wished to be assured of happiness: he has never yet deceived me in\nanything whatever.\" \"Well, then, so be it,\" said D\u00e9sirs; \"we will go\nthere.\"\n\nThe Prince brought her a valuable box, in which was the Rouge of\nYouth; and with the hope of making herself appear more beautiful still\nin the eyes of her lover, she rubbed some hastily all over her face,\nforgetting that she was invisible by means of the gem which he had\ngiven her. She took him by the arm. They traversed in this manner the\nwhole of the Fair, and were soon close to the palace of the Queen.\nThere the Prince resumed the gem of Gyges. The beautiful D\u00e9sirs became\nvisible, and he became invisible, to the great regret of the Princess,\nwhom he took by the arm in his turn, and presented her before Nabote\nand her Court. All the fairies looked at each other in excessive\nastonishment at seeing D\u00e9sirs return with the Rouge of Youth, and the\nQueen, frowning awfully, desired them to guard her strictly. \"Our arts\nare vain,\" said she. \"We must put her to death, without trying any more\nexperiments.\"\n\nThe sentence was pronounced. D\u00e9sirs trembled with fear; her lover\nre-assured her as much as he could.\n\nBut we must return to Fairer than a Fairy. They had conducted her to\nthe Wood of Wonders, and here is the reason why they had condemned her\nto chase the Silver-footed Hind:--\n\nOnce upon a time there had been a Queen of the Fairies who had\nsucceeded in due course to that grand title; she was beautiful, good,\nand wise. She had had several lovers, whose affections and attentions\nhad, however, been lost upon her. Entirely occupied in protecting\nvirtue, she found no amusement in listening to the sighs of her\nadorers. There was one whom her coldness rendered the most unhappy,\nbecause he loved her better than any of the others.\n\nOne day, seeing that he could not move her to pity him, he protested,\nin his despair, that he would kill himself. She was not affected even\nat this threat, considering it merely as one of those extravagances\nin which lovers sometimes indulge, but which never have any serious\nresult. However, some time after, he really did throw himself into the\nsea.\n\nA sage, who had brought up this young man, complained to the supreme\nauthorities, and the insensible Fairy was condemned to do penance for\nher severity in the form of a hind, for the term of one hundred years,\nunless an accomplished beauty could be found, who, by venturing to hunt\nher for ten days in the Wood of Wonders, could take her and restore her\nto her original shape. Forty years had already elapsed since she had\nbeen first transformed.\n\nAt the commencement of her penance several beauties had risked the\ntrial of this fine adventure, from which so much honour was to be\nderived. Each hoped to be the fortunate huntress; but as they lost\nthemselves in the pursuit, and at the end of ten days were no more\nheard of, this ardour began to cool, and for some time past no beauty\nhad voluntarily offered herself; those who had recently undertaken the\ntask being condemned to it by the Fairies, in order to ensure their\ndestruction. It was, thus, to get rid of Fairer that they led her to\nthe Wood of Wonders. They gave her a small portion of food, for form's\nsake, and placed in her hand a silken cord, with a running noose to\ncatch the deer. That was all her outfit for the chase. She deposited\nwhat they gave her at the foot of a tree, and when she found herself\nalone she cast a look round this vast forest, in the profound silence\nand solitude of which she saw nothing but despair.\n\nShe was anxious to remain at the skirt of the forest, and not to enter\nit too far, so in order to know the spot again, she placed a mark\nat the point from which she started. But, alas! how did she deceive\nherself! Every one lost themselves in this forest, without being\nable to issue from it. In one of the paths she caught sight of the\nSilver-footed Hind walking slowly. She approached it, with her silken\ncord in her hand, thinking to take it; but the deer, feeling itself\npursued, started off at full speed, stopping from time to time, and\nturning its head towards Fairer. They were in sight of each other all\nday without being any nearer. At last night separated them.\n\nThe poor huntress was very tired and very hungry, but she no longer\nknew where to find the little provision she had had given her, and\nthere was nothing but the hard ground for her to repose upon. She\nlay down, therefore, very sadly, under a tree; she could not sleep\nfor a long time--she was frightened; the least thing alarmed her: a\nleaf shaken by the wind made her tremble. In this miserable state she\nturned her thoughts on her lover, and called him several times; but\nfinding him fail her in her great distress, she exclaimed, with tears\nin her eyes, \"Phratis! Phratis! you have abandoned me!\" She was just\ndropping asleep, when she felt a movement beneath her, and it seemed to\nher as though she was in the best bed in the world. She slept soundly\nfor a considerable time, without any interruption. She was awoke in\nthe morning by the song of a thousand nightingales, and, turning her\nbeautiful eyes around, she found she was raised two feet from the\nearth, the turf having sprung up under her lovely form, and thus made\na delicious couch. A large orange-tree threw its branches over her\nlike a tent, and she was covered with flowers. By her side were two\nturtle-doves, who announced to her, by their love for each other, what\nshe might hope for with Phratis. The ground was entirely covered with\nstrawberries and all sorts of excellent fruits; she ate of them, and\nfound herself as well satisfied and as much strengthened by them as\nthough they had been the richest and best kind of meats. A stream which\nflowed close by served to allay her thirst. \"Oh, ye tender cares of my\nlover,\" cried she, when she had refreshed herself, \"how much I needed\nyou! I murmur no longer. Give me less, dearest, and let me see you!\"\n\nShe would have continued in this strain had she not perceived,\nstretched close to her, the Silver-footed Hind, quietly gazing at her.\nShe thought this time she must catch it: with one hand she held out\nto it a bunch of grass, and with the other grasped the cord; but the\ndeer bounded lightly away, and when it had gone a short distance, it\nstopped, and looked back at her. It kept up this game all day. Another\nnight came, and passed like the one before it. She awoke under similar\ncircumstances, and four days and nights elapsed in the like manner.\nAt length, on the fifth morning, Fairer than a Fairy, on opening her\neyes, thought she saw a light more brilliant than that of day, when she\nperceived, in those of her lover, seated near her, all the affection\nwith which she had inspired him. He fervently kissed one of her feet;\nhis presence and this respectful action gratified her greatly. \"You\nare there, then,\" said she. \"If I have not beheld you all these days,\nI have, at all events, received the proofs of your goodness.\" \"Say of\nmy love, Fairer than a Fairy,\" replied he. \"My mother suspects that it\nis I who assist you: she has placed me in confinement. I have escaped a\nmoment, by means of a fairy of my acquaintance. Adieu! I came only to\nencourage you. You shall see me this evening, and if fortune smiles,\nto-morrow we shall be happy.\" He departed, and she hunted again all\nday. When night came, she perceived near her a little light, which\nsufficed to show her her lover. \"Here is my illuminated wand,\" said he:\n\"place it before you, and go without fear wherever it will lead you.\nWhere it stops you will perceive a great heap of dry leaves; set fire\nto it, enter the place; you will see and you will find the skin of a\nbeast; burn it. The stars, our friends, will do the rest. Adieu!\"\n\nFairer than a Fairy would have desired far more ample instructions;\nbut seeing there was no remedy, she placed the wand before her, which\nshowed her the way. She followed it nearly two hours, very much vexed\nat doing nothing else. It stopped at last, and there, truly enough, she\nperceived a large heap of dried leaves, to which she did not fail to\nset fire. The light was soon so great that she could see a very high\nmountain, in which she observed an opening half hid by brambles. She\nseparated them with her wand, and entered a dark hole; but soon after\nshe found herself in a vast saloon, of admirable architecture, and\nlighted with numberless lamps. But what struck her with the greatest\nastonishment was the sight of the skins of several wild and terrible\nbeasts, hung on golden hooks, which at first she mistook for the\nbeasts themselves. She turned away her eyes with horror, and they\nwere arrested in the centre of the saloon by the sight of a beautiful\npalm-tree, upon one of the branches of which was suspended the skin\nof the Hind with the silver feet. Fairer than a Fairy was enchanted\nat seeing it, and taking it down with the aid of her wand, she\ncarried it quickly to the fire which she had lighted at the entrance\nof the cavern. It was consumed in a moment, and re-entering joyfully\nthe saloon, she penetrated into several magnificent apartments. She\nstopped in one, where she saw several small couches placed upon Persian\ncarpets, and one more beautiful than the rest under a canopy of\ncloth-of-gold. But she had not much time to contemplate arrangements\nwhich appeared to her singular, for she heard hearty peals of laughter\nand several persons in loud conversation. Fairer than a Fairy turned\nher steps in the direction from which the sounds proceeded, and entered\na wonderful place, where she found fifteen young ladies of celestial\nbeauty.\n\nShe did not surprise them less than she was surprised herself: the\nextreme loveliness of her appearance took away their breath, and a deep\nsilence succeeded to cries of admiration. But one of these beautiful\npersons, more beautiful than all the rest, advanced, with a smiling\nair, towards our charming Princess. \"You are my deliverer,\" said she,\naddressing her; \"I cannot doubt it; no one can enter here who is not\nclothed in the skin of one of the beasts which you saw at the entrance\nof the cavern; that has been the fate of all these beautiful persons\nwhom you see with me. After ten days of useless pursuit of me, they\nwere changed into so many animals during the day; but at night we\nresume our human forms: and you, charming Princess, if you had not\ndelivered me, would have been changed into a white rabbit.\" \"A white\nrabbit!\" exclaimed Fairer. \"Ah, Madam, it is indeed better that I\nshould preserve my ordinary form, and that so wonderful a person as you\nshould be no longer a deer.\" \"You have restored us all to liberty,\"\nreplied the Fairy; \"let us now pass the rest of the night as joyously\nas may be, and to-morrow we will go to the Palace, and fill all the\nCourt with astonishment.\"\n\nIt is impossible to express the joy which resounded in this charming\nspot, and the delight which all these young persons felt at the sweet\nsensation of finding themselves once more in the land of the living,\nso to speak--they were all still of the same age as when they commenced\ntheir unfortunate chase in the Wood of Wonders, and the eldest was not\nyet twenty.\n\nThe Fairy desired to take three or four hours' repose. She made Fairer\nlie down beside her, and relate her adventures. She did so with so\ntouching a voice, her discourse was so unaffected and so full of truth,\nthat she engaged the Fairy without reserve to assist her love and\nrender her happy. She did not forget to speak to her of D\u00e9sirs, and the\nFairy was immediately interested in her favour.\n\nThey went to sleep, after a long conversation, which they had agreeably\ninterrupted, from time to time, by the interchange of affectionate\ncaresses.\n\nThe next day they all set out for the Palace, wishing pleasantly\nto surprise the fairies. They quitted, without regret, the Wood of\nWonders, and quickly arrived at the Palace. As they approached the\ninner court, they heard a thousand melodious sounds, which composed\nan excellent concert. \"Here is a f\u00eate going on,\" said the Fairy; \"we\nhave arrived _\u00e0 propos_;\" and advancing, they found the court filled\nwith an incredible number of people. The Fairy caused the gate to be\nopened, and entered with her train. The first persons who recognised\nher, uttered the loudest exclamations of delight, and the cause of this\ngreat joy was quickly made known to the multitude. But on advancing,\nthe Fairy was struck by a strange spectacle. She saw a young girl more\nlovely than the Graces, and with the form of Venus, bound to a stake\nnear a pile of wood, where apparently she was about to be burnt to\ndeath.\n\nFairer than a Fairy uttered a loud cry, as she recognised D\u00e9sirs; but\nshe was much astonished when, at the same moment, she lost sight of\nher, and a young man appeared in her place, so handsome and so well\nmade that one might never be tired of looking at him. At this sight\nFairer uttered a still louder cry, and running towards him, without\nany regard to appearances, she flung herself on his neck, exclaiming\na thousand times, \"It is my brother! it is my brother.\" It was her\nbrother, who was also the fortunate lover of Princess D\u00e9sirs, and who,\nfearing they would put her to death, had given her the Gem of Gyges to\nrescue her from the cruelty of Queen Nabote, and by so doing, became\nhimself visible.\n\nThe brother and sister lavished a hundred caresses on each other; the\ninvisible D\u00e9sirs added hers, and her voice was heard, although she\nwas not to be seen, whilst the fairies, in unparalleled astonishment,\nexpressed in every variety of manner their rapture at again beholding\ntheir virtuous Queen. The good fairies came and threw themselves at\nher feet, kissing her hand and her garments. Some wept, some were\nunable to speak; each testified her joy according to her peculiar\ncharacter. The bad fairies, the partisans of Nabote, also pretended to\nbe delighted, and policy gave an air of sincerity to their hypocritical\ndemonstrations. Nabote herself, in despair at this return, controlled\nherself with an art of which she alone was capable. She offered at\nonce to resign her power to the rightful sovereign, who, with a grave\nand majestic air, demanded of her why the young girl whom she had seen\nbound to the stake merited such a punishment, and since when they had\nbeen accustomed to celebrate a cruel execution by f\u00eates and sports.\nNabote excused herself very lamely, and the Queen listened impatiently\nwhen the lover of D\u00e9sirs spoke thus: \"They punish this Princess,\" said\nhe, \"because she is too amiable; they torment for the same reason the\nPrincess my sister. They were both born as handsome as you now behold\nthem.\" He then begged his lady-love to cover up the Gem of Gyges, and\nshe immediately appeared again. D\u00e9sirs charmed all who saw her. \"They\nare beautiful,\" pursued he; \"they possess a thousand virtues which\nthey do not derive from the fairies; that is why they are roused up\nto persecute them. What injustice, to tyrannize over all those whose\ncharms do not emanate from yourselves.\" The Prince paused: the Queen\nturned towards the assembly with an agreeable air. \"I demand,\" said\nshe, \"that these three persons shall be given up to me; they shall\nenjoy the most happy fate that can fall to the lot of mortals. I owe\nmuch to Fairer than a Fairy, and she shall be rewarded for the service\nshe has done me by uninterrupted felicity. You shall continue to reign,\nMadam,\" added she, turning to Nabote: \"this empire is sufficiently\nlarge for you and me. Go to the Beautiful Islands, which belong to you.\nLeave me your son; I will share my power with him, and I will marry him\nto Fairer than a Fairy; this union will reconcile us to one another.\"\n\nNabote was enraged at all these decisions of the Queen, but it was of\nno use to complain, she was not the strongest. She had but to obey.\nShe was about to do so with a bad grace, when the beautiful Phratis\narrived, followed by a gallant train of youths who composed his Court;\nhe came to pay his homage to the Queen, and manifest his joy at her\nreturn. But in passing, he cast a look at Fairer than a Fairy, and made\nher comprehend by his passionate glances that she was the first object\nof his devotion.\n\nThe Queen embraced him, and presented him to Fairer, begging him to\naccept her at her hands. There is no need to say he obeyed joyfully,\nexclaiming with transport,\n\n    \"Oh Love! for all my tender care and aid,\n    By this rich guerdon I am overpaid!\"\n\nThe two marriages were celebrated on the same day. Both couples were\nso happy, that 'tis said they are the only pairs who have ever really\ngained the golden Vine,[13] and that those who have been since named as\nhaving done so are purely fabulous personages.\n\nThus innocence triumphs over the misfortunes with which it is assailed.\nEnvy and jealousy only serve to increase its lustre; and often the\njustice of Heaven renders its possessors happier for the trials they\nhave undergone. There is a Providence which watches over the conduct of\nmortals, and delights in rewarding the worthy, even in this world.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[11] A favourite palace of Louis XIV., four leagues west\nof Paris, and the scene of many celebrated entertainments. It was\ndestroyed in the Revolution of 1789.\n\n[12] A shepherd who, according to the story told by Plato, was\npossessed of a ring which he took off the finger of a dead man enclosed\nin the body of a brazen horse, and which rendered the wearer invisible.\nBy means of this ring he became King of Lydia.\n\n[13] _La vigne d'or_, more commonly _la vigne de l'\u00e9v\u00eaque_.\n\"On dit d'un mari et d'une femme qui passent la premi\u00e8re ann\u00e9e de leur\nmariage sans s'en repentir, qu'ils auront la vigne de l'ev\u00eaque.\"--P.\nJ. Le Roux, _Dictionnaire Comique_. In the only English version I have\nseen of this story, \"the golden vine\" is of course transformed into\n\"the flitch of bacon.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOOD WOMAN.\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a Good Woman, who was kind, candid, and\ncourageous. She had experienced all the vicissitudes which can agitate\nhuman existence.\n\nShe had resided at Court, and had endured all the storms to which it\nis so subject:--treasons, perfidies, infidelities, loss of wealth,\nloss of friends. So that, disgusted with dwelling in a place in which\ndissimulation and hypocrisy have established their empire, and weary\nof an intercourse wherein hearts never appear as they really are, she\nresolved to quit her own country and go to a distance, where she could\nforget the world, and where the world would hear no more of her.\n\nWhen she believed herself far enough off, she built a small house in\nan extremely agreeable situation. All she could then do was to buy a\nlittle flock of sheep, which furnished her with food and clothing.\n\nShe had hardly made trial of this mode of life before she found herself\nperfectly happy. \"There is, then, some state of existence in which\none may enjoy content,\" said she; \"and the choice I have made leaves\nme nothing to desire.\" She passed each day in plying her distaff and\ntending her flock. She would sometimes have liked a little society, but\nshe feared the danger of it. She was insensibly becoming accustomed\nto the life she led, when one day, as she was endeavouring to collect\nher little flock, it began to scatter itself over the country and\nfly from her. In fact, it fled so fast that in a very short time she\ncould scarcely see one of her sheep. \"Am I a devouring wolf?\" cried\nshe: \"what means this wonder?\" She called to a favourite ewe, but it\nappeared not to know her voice. She ran after it, exclaiming, \"I\nwill not care for losing all the rest of the flock if thou dost but\nremain to me!\" But the ungrateful creature continued its flight, and\ndisappeared with the rest.\n\nThe Good Woman was deeply distressed at the loss she had sustained.\n\"I have now nothing left,\" cried she; \"maybe I shall not find even\nmy garden; or my little cottage will be no longer in its place.\" She\nreturned slowly, for she was very tired with the race she had had. She\nlived upon fruit and vegetables for some time after exhausting a small\nstock of cheese.\n\nShe began to see the end of all this. \"Fortune,\" said she, \"thou hast\nin vain sought to persecute me even in this remote spot; thou canst not\nprevent me from being ready to behold the gates of death without alarm,\nand after so much trouble I shall descend with tranquillity into those\npeaceful shades.\"\n\nShe had nothing more to spin, she had nothing more to eat: leaning on\nher distaff, she bent her steps towards a little wood, and looking\nround for a place to rest in, she was astonished at seeing run towards\nher three little children, more beautiful than the fairest day. She\nwas delighted to see such charming company. They loaded her with a\nhundred caresses, and as she seated herself on the ground, in order to\nreceive them more conveniently, one threw its little arms round her\nneck, the other encircled her waist from behind, and the third called\nher \"mother.\" She waited a long time, to see if some one would not come\nto fetch them, believing that those who had led them thither would not\nfail to return for them. All the day passed without her seeing any one.\n\nShe resolved to take them to her own home, and thought Heaven had sent\nher this little flock instead of the one she had lost. It was composed\nof two girls, who were only two or three years old, and a little boy of\nfive. Each had a little ribbon round its neck, to which was attached\na small jewel. One was a golden cherry enamelled with crimson, and\nengraved with the name of \"Lirette.\" She thought that this must be\nthe name of the little girl who wore it, and she resolved to call her\nby it. The other was a medlar, on which was written \"Mirtis;\" and the\nlittle boy had an almond of green enamel, around which was written\n\"Finfin.\" The Good Woman felt perfectly satisfied that these were their\nnames.\n\nThe little girls had some jewels in their head-dresses, and more than\nenough to put the Good Woman in easy circumstances. She had very soon\nbought another flock, and surrounded herself with everything necessary\nfor the maintenance of her interesting family. She made their winter\nclothing of the bark of trees, and in the summer they had white cotton\ndresses of the finest bleaching.\n\nYoung as they were, they tended their flock. And this time the flock\nwas faithful, and was more docile and obedient to them than towards the\nlarge dogs which guarded them; and these dogs were also gentle, and\nattached to the children. They grew visibly, and passed their days most\ninnocently; they loved the Good Woman, and were all three excessively\nfond of each other. They occupied themselves in tending their sheep,\nfishing with a line, spreading nets to catch birds, working in a little\ngarden of their own, and employed their delicate hands in cultivating\nflowers.\n\nThere was one rose-tree, which the young Lirette was especially fond\nof; she watered it often, and took the greatest care of it; she thought\nnothing so beautiful as a rose, and loved it above all other flowers.\nShe had a fancy one day to open a bud, and try to find its heart, when\nin so doing she pricked her finger with a thorn. The pain was sharp,\nand she began to cry; the beautiful Finfin, who very seldom left her,\napproached, and began to cry too, at seeing her suffer. He took her\nlittle finger, pressed it, and squeezed the blood gently from it.\n\nThe Good Woman, who saw their alarm at this accident, approached, and\nlearning the cause of it, \"Why so inquisitive\" said she; \"why destroy\nthe flower you loved so much?\" \"I wanted its heart,\" replied Lirette.\n\"Such desires are always fatal,\" replied the Good Woman. \"But, mother,\"\npursued Lirette, \"why has this flower, which is so beautiful, and\nwhich pleases me so much, thorns?\" \"To show you,\" said the Good Woman,\n\"that we must distrust the greater part of those things which please\nour eyes, and that the most agreeable objects hide snares which may be\nto us most deadly.\" \"How?\" replied Lirette. \"Must one not then love\neverything which is pleasant?\" \"No, certainly,\" said the Good Woman,\n\"and you must take good care not to do so.\" \"But I love my brother with\nall my heart,\" replied she; \"he is so handsome and so charming.\" \"You\nmay love your brother,\" replied her mother; \"but if he were not your\nbrother you ought not to love him.\"\n\nLirette shook her head, and thought this rule very hard. Finfin\nmeanwhile was still occupied with her finger; he squeezed on the wound\nthe juice of the rose-leaves, and wrapped it in them. The Good Woman\nasked him why he did that? \"Because I think,\" said he, \"that the remedy\nmay be found in the same thing which has caused the evil.\" The Good\nWoman smiled at this reason. \"My dear child,\" replied she, \"not in\nthis case.\" \"I thought it was in all cases,\" said he; \"for sometimes,\nwhen Lirette looks at me, she troubles me greatly; I feel quite\nagitated; and the moment after those same looks cause me a pleasure\nwhich I cannot express to you. When she scolds me sometimes, I am very\nwretched; but let her speak at length one gentle word to me, I am all\njoy again.\"\n\nThe Good Woman wondered what these children would think of next; she\ndid not know their relation to each other, and she dreaded their loving\neach other too much. She would have given anything to learn if they\nwere brother and sister; her ignorance on this point caused her great\nanxiety, but their extreme youth re-assured her. Finfin was already\nfull of attention to the little Lirette; he loved her much better\nthan Mirtis. He had at one time given her some young partridges, the\nprettiest in the world, which he had caught. She reared one, which\nbecame a fine bird, with very beautiful plumage; Lirette loved it\nexcessively, and gave it to Finfin. It followed him everywhere, and he\ntaught it a thousand diverting tricks. He had one day taken it with\nhim when going to tend his flock; on returning home he could not find\nhis partridge; he sought for it everywhere, and distressed himself\ngreatly at its loss. Mirtis tried to console him, but without success.\n\"Sister,\" he replied, \"I am in despair. Lirette will be angry; all\nyou say to me does not diminish my grief.\" \"Well, brother,\" said she,\n\"we will get up very early to-morrow and go in search of another; I\ncannot bear to see you so miserable.\" Lirette arrived as she said this,\nand having learnt the cause of Finfin's sorrow, she began to smile.\n\"My dear brother,\" said she to him, \"we will find another partridge;\nit is nothing but the state in which I see you that gives me pain.\"\nThese words sufficed to restore serenity and calm to the heart and\ncountenance of Finfin.\n\n\"Why,\" said he to himself, \"could Mirtis not restore my spirits, with\nall her kindness, while Lirette has done it with a single little word?\nTwo is one too many--Lirette is enough for me.\" On the other hand,\nMirtis saw plainly that her brother made a difference between her and\nLirette. \"We are not enough here, being three,\" said she. \"I ought\nto have another brother, who would love me as much as Finfin does my\nsister.\"\n\nLirette was now twelve years old, Mirtis thirteen, and Finfin fifteen,\nwhen one evening, after supper, they were all seated in front of the\ncottage with the Good Woman, who instructed them in a hundred agreeable\nthings. The youthful Finfin, seeing Lirette playing with the jewel on\nher neck, asked his dear mamma what it was for? She replied that she\nhad found one on each of them when they fell into her hands. Lirette\nthen said, \"If mine would but do as I tell it, I should be glad.\" \"And\nwhat would you have it do?\" asked Finfin. \"You will see,\" said she; and\nthen taking the end of the ribbon, \"Little cherry,\" she continued, \"I\nshould like to have a beautiful house of roses.\"\n\nAt the same moment they heard a slight noise behind them. Mirtis turned\nround first, and uttered a loud cry; she had cause; for instead of the\ncottage of the Good Woman, there appeared one of the most charming that\ncould possibly be seen. It was not lofty, but the roof was formed of\nroses that would bloom in winter as well as in summer. They entered it,\nand found the most agreeable apartments, furnished magnificently. In\nthe midst of each room was a rose-tree in full flower, in a precious\nvase; and in the first which they entered, they found the partridge\nFinfin had lost, which flew on to his shoulder and gave him an hundred\ncaresses.\n\n\"Is it only to wish?\" said Mirtis; and taking the ribbon of her jewel\nin her hand, \"Little medlar,\" she continued, \"give us a garden more\nbeautiful than our own.\" Hardly had she finished speaking, when a\ngarden was presented to their view of extraordinary beauty, and in\nwhich everything that could be imagined to delight the senses appeared\nin the highest perfection.\n\nThe young folks began immediately to run through the beautiful alleys,\namongst the flower-beds and round about the fountains.\n\n\"Do you wish something, brother,\" said Lirette. \"But I have nothing\nto wish for,\" said he; \"except to be loved by you as much as you are\nloved by me.\" \"Oh,\" replied she, \"my heart can satisfy you on that\npoint. That does not depend on your almond.\" \"Well, then,\" said Finfin,\n\"almond, little almond, I wish that a great forest should rise near\nhere, in which the King's son shall come to hunt, and that he shall\nfall in love with Mirtis.\"\n\n\"What have I done to you,\" replied the beautiful girl. \"I do not wish\nto leave the innocent life which we lead.\" \"You are right, my child,\"\nsaid the Good Woman, \"and I admire the wisdom of your sentiments;\nbesides which, they say that this King is a cruel usurper, who has put\nto death the rightful sovereign and all his family: perhaps the son may\nbe no better than his father.\"\n\nThe Good Woman, however, was quite astonished at the strange wishes\nof these wonderful children, and knew not what to think of them. When\nnight was come, she retired into the house of roses, and in the morning\nshe found that there was a large forest close to the house. It formed a\nfine hunting ground for our young shepherds. Finfin often hunted down\nin it deer, harts, and roebucks.\n\nHe gave a fawn whiter than snow to the lovely Lirette; it followed her\nas the partridge followed Finfin; and when they were separated for a\nshort period, they wrote to each other, and sent their notes by these\nmessengers. It was the prettiest thing in the world.\n\nThe little family lived thus tranquilly, occupied with different\nemployments, according to the seasons. They always attended to their\nflocks, but in the summer their occupations were most pleasant. They\nhunted much in the winter; they had bows and arrows, and sometimes went\nsuch long distances that they returned, with slow steps and almost\nfrozen, to the house of roses.\n\nThe Good Woman would receive them by a large fire; she did not know\nwhich to begin to warm first. \"Lirette, my daughter Lirette,\" she\nwould say, \"place your little feet here.\" And taking Mirtis in her\narms,--\"Mirtis, my child,\" continued she, \"give me your beautiful hands\nto warm; and you my son, Finfin, come nearer.\" Then, placing them\nall three on a sofa, she would pay them every attention in the most\ncharming and gentle manner.\n\nThus they passed their days in peace and happiness. The Good Woman\nwondered at the sympathy between Finfin and Lirette, for Mirtis was\nas beautiful, and had no less amiable qualities; but certainly Finfin\ndid not love her as fervently as the other. \"If they are brother and\nsister, as I believe,\" said the Good Woman, \"by their matchless beauty,\nwhat shall I do? They are so similar in everything, that they must\nassuredly be of the same blood. If it be so, this affection is very\ndangerous; if not, I might render it legitimate by letting them marry;\nand they both love me so much, that their union would ensure joy and\npeace to my declining days.\"\n\nIn her uncertainty, she had forbidden Lirette, who was fast advancing\nto womanhood, to be ever alone with Finfin, and for better security\nshe had ordered Mirtis to be always with them. Lirette obeyed her with\nperfect submission, and Mirtis did also as she had commanded her. The\nGood Woman had heard speak of a clever fairy, and resolved to go in\nsearch of her, and endeavour to enlighten herself respecting the fate\nof these children.\n\nOne day, when Lirette was slightly indisposed, and Mirtis and Finfin\nwere out hunting, the Good Woman thought it a convenient opportunity to\ngo in search of Madam Tu-tu, for such was the name of the fairy. She\nleft Lirette, therefore, at the House of Roses; but she had not got far\non her way before she met Lirette's fawn, which was going towards the\nforest, and at the same time she saw Finfin's partridge coming from it.\nThey joined each other close to her. It was not without astonishment\nthat she saw round the neck of each a little ribbon, with a paper\nattached. She called the partridge, which flew to her, and taking the\npaper from it, she read these lines:--\n\n    To Lirette, dear bird, repair--\n    Absent from her sight I languish,--\n    All my love to her declare--\n    Secret joy and silent anguish.\n    Much too cold her heart, I fear,\n    Such a passion e'er to know\n    Were I to her but half as dear,\n    No greater bliss I'd crave below.\n\n\"What words!\" cried the Good Woman,--\"what phrases! Simple friendship\ndoes not express itself with so much warmth.\" Then stopping the fawn,\nwhich came to lick her hand, she unfastened the paper from its neck,\nopened it, and found in it these words:--\n\n    The sun is setting,--you are absent yet,\n    Although you left me by its earliest light!\n    Return, dear Finfin; surely you forget--\n    Without you, day to me is endless night!\n\n\"Just as they did when I was in the world,\" continued the Good Woman;\n\"who could have taught Lirette so much in this desert? What can I do to\ncut betimes the root of so pernicious an evil?\" \"Eh, Madam, what are\nyou so anxious about?\" said the partridge; \"let them alone--those who\nconduct them know better than you.\"\n\nThe Good Woman remained speechless: she knew well that the partridge\nspoke by means of supernatural art. The notes fell from her hands in\nher fright; the fawn and the partridge picked them up: the one ran and\nthe other flew; and the partridge called so often \"Tu-tu,\" that the\nGood Woman thought it must be that powerful fairy who had caused it to\nspeak. She recovered herself a little after this reflection, but not\nfeeling equal to the journey she had undertaken, she retraced her steps\nto the House of Roses.\n\nMeanwhile Finfin and Mirtis had hunted the livelong day, and, being\ntired, they had placed their game on the ground, and sat down to rest\nunder a tree, where they fell asleep.\n\nThe King's son also hunted that day in the forest. He missed his suite,\nand came to the place where our young shepherd and shepherdess were\nreposing. He contemplated them for some time with wonder. Finfin had\nmade a pillow of his game-bag, and the head of Mirtis reclined on the\nbreast of Finfin.\n\nThe Prince thought Mirtis so beautiful, that he precipitately\ndismounted from his horse to examine her features with more attention.\nHe judged, by their scrips and the simplicity of their apparel, that\nthey were only some shepherd's children. He sighed from grief, having\nalready sighed from love, and this love, even, was followed in an\ninstant by jealousy. The position in which he found these young people\nmade him believe that such familiarity could only result from the\naffection which united them.\n\n  [Illustration: The Good Woman.--P. 210.]\n\nIn this uneasy state of mind, not being able to tolerate their\nprolonged repose, he touched the handsome Finfin with his spear. He\nstarted up, and, seeing a man before him, he passed his hand over the\nface of Mirtis, and awoke her, calling her \"sister,\" a name which\ndissipated in a moment the alarm of the young Prince.\n\nMirtis rose up, quite astonished; she had never seen any one but\nFinfin. The young Prince was the same age as herself. He was superbly\nattired, and had a face full of charming expression.\n\nHe began saying many sweet things to her. She listened to him with a\npleasure which she had never before experienced, and she responded to\nthem in a simple manner, full of grace. Finfin saw that it was getting\nlate, and the fawn having arrived with Lirette's letter, he told his\nsister it was time to go home. \"Come, brother,\" said she to the young\nPrince, giving him her hand, \"come with us into the House of Roses.\"\nFor as she believed Finfin to be her brother, she thought that every\none who was handsome, like him, must be her brother also.\n\nThe young Prince did not require much pressing to follow her. Finfin\nthrew on the back of his fawn the game he had shot, and the handsome\nPrince carried the bow and the game-bag of Mirtis.\n\nIn this order they arrived at the House of Roses. Lirette came out to\nmeet them. She gave the Prince a smiling reception, and turning towards\nMirtis, \"I am delighted,\" said she, \"that you have had such good sport.\"\n\nThey went all together to seek the Good Woman, to whom the Prince made\nknown his high birth. She paid due attention to so illustrious a guest,\nand gave him a handsome apartment. He remained two or three days with\nher, and this was long enough to complete his conquest by Mirtis,\naccording to Finfin's request to his little almond.\n\nMeanwhile, the suite of the Prince had been much surprised at his\nabsence. They had found his horse, and they believed that some\nfrightful accident had befallen him. They sought him everywhere, and\nthe wicked King, who was his father, was in a great fury at their not\nbeing able to find him. The Queen, his mother, who was very amiable,\nand sister of the King whom her husband had cruelly murdered, was in\nan inconceivable state of grief at the loss of her son.\n\nIn her extreme distress, she sent secretly in search of Madam Tu-tu,\nwho was an old friend of hers, but whom she had not seen for some\ntime, because the King hated her, and had done her much injury\nwith a person she dearly loved. Madam Tu-tu arrived, without being\nperceived, in the cabinet of the Queen. After they had embraced each\nother affectionately--for there is not much difference between a Queen\nand a Fairy, they having almost equal power,--the Fairy Tu-tu told\nher that she would very soon see her son. She begged her not to make\nherself uneasy, and not to be at all distressed at anything that might\nhappen--that either she was very much deceived, or she could promise\nher a delight which was quite unexpected by her, and that she would be\none day the happiest of creatures.\n\nThe King's people made so many inquiries for the Prince, and sought him\nwith so much care, that at length they found him at the House of Roses.\n\nThey led him back to the King, who scolded him brutally, as though he\nwere not the most beautiful youth in the world. He remained very sad\nat the Court of his father, and thinking of his beautiful Mirtis. At\nlength his grief was so visible on his countenance, that he was obliged\nto take his mother into his confidence, who consoled him extremely.\n\"If you will mount your beautiful palfrey,\" said he, \"and come to the\nHouse of Roses, you will be charmed with what you will see.\" The Queen\nconsented willingly, and took her son with her, who was enchanted at\nseeing his dear mistress again.\n\nThe Queen was astonished at the great beauty of Mirtis, and also at\nthat of Lirette and Finfin. She embraced them with as much tenderness\nas if they had been all her own children, and conceived an immense\nfriendship from that moment for the Good Woman. She admired the house,\nthe garden, and all the curiosities she saw there. When she returned,\nthe King desired her to give an account of her journey; she did so\nnaturally, and he took a great fancy to go also and see the wonders\nwhich she described. His son asked permission to accompany him; he\nconsented with a sullen air, for he never did anything with a good\ngrace. As soon as he saw the House of Roses he coveted it; he paid\nnot the least attention to the charming inhabitants of this beautiful\nplace, and, by way of commencing to take possession of their property,\nhe said that he would sleep there that evening.\n\nThe Good Woman was very much vexed at such a resolution. She heard an\nuproar, and saw a disorder in her household, which frightened her.\n\"What has become,\" cried she, \"of the happy tranquillity which I once\nenjoyed here! The least breath of fortune destroys all the calm of\nlife!\"\n\nShe gave the King an excellent bed, and withdrew into a corner of the\ndwelling with her little family. The wicked King went to bed, but found\nit impossible to go to sleep, and opening his eyes, he saw at the\nfoot of his couch a little old woman, who was not half a yard high,\nand about as broad; she had great spectacles, which covered all her\nface, and she made frightful grimaces at him. The base are generally\ncowards. He was in a terrible fright, and felt at the same time a\nthousand points of needles pricking him all over. In this tormenting\nstate of body and mind, he was kept awake the entire night, and made\na great noise about it. The King stormed and swore in language which\nwas not at all consistent with his dignity. \"Sleep, sleep, sire,\" said\nthe partridge, \"or let us sleep: if the condition of royalty is so\nfull of anxiety, I prefer being a partridge to being king.\" The King\nwas more than ever alarmed at these words; he commanded them to seize\nthe partridge, which roosted in a porcelain vase; but she flew away\nat this order, beating his face with her wings. He still saw the same\nvision, and felt the same prickings; he was dreadfully frightened, and\nhis anger became more furious. \"Ah!\" said he, \"it is a spell of this\nsorceress, whom they call the Good Woman. I will rid myself of her and\nall her race by putting them to death!\"\n\nHe got up, not being able to rest in bed; and as soon as day broke,\nhe commanded his guards to seize all the innocent little family, and\nfling them into dungeons. He had them dragged before him, that he\nmight witness their despair. Those charming faces, bedewed with tears,\ntouched him not; on the contrary, he felt a malignant joy at the sight.\nHis son, whose tender heart was rent by so sad a spectacle, could not\nturn his eyes upon Mirtis without an agony which nothing could exceed.\nA true lover, on such occasions, suffers more than the person beloved.\n\nThey seized these poor innocents, and were leading them away, when the\nyoung Finfin, who had no arms with which to oppose these barbarians,\ntook the ribbon on a sudden from his neck. \"Little almond,\" cried he,\n\"I wish that we were out of the power of the King!\" \"And with his\ngreatest enemies, my dear cherry!\" continued Lirette. \"And that we\nmight take away with us the handsome Prince, my medlar!\" added Mirtis.\nThey had hardly uttered these words when they found themselves with\nthe Prince, the partridge, and the fawn, all together in a car, which\nrising with them in the air, they soon lost sight of the King and the\nHouse of Roses.\n\nMirtis had no sooner expressed her wish than she repented of it. She\nknew well that she had inconsiderately allowed herself to be carried\naway by an impulse of which she was not the mistress; therefore, during\nall the journey, she kept her eyes cast down, and felt much abashed.\nThe Good Woman gave her a severe glance. \"My daughter,\" said she, \"you\nhave not done well to separate the Prince from his father; however\nunjust he may be, he ought not to leave him.\" \"Ah, Madam,\" replied the\nPrince, \"do not complain that I have the happiness of following you. I\nrespect the King, my father; but I should have left him a hundred times\nhad it not been for the virtue, the kindness, and tenderness of the\nQueen, my mother, which have always detained me.\"\n\nAs he finished these words, they found themselves in front of a\nbeautiful palace, where they alighted and were received by Madam Tu-tu.\nShe was the most lovely person in the world--young, lively, and gay.\nShe paid them a hundred compliments, and confessed to them that it\nwas she who had given them all the pleasures which they had enjoyed\nin their lives, and had also bestowed on them the cherry, the almond,\nand the medlar, the virtues of which were at an end, as they had now\narrived in her dominions. Then, addressing the Prince in private, she\ntold him that she had heard speak a thousand times of the annoyance\nhe had met with from his father; but, in order that he should not\nattribute to her any evil that might hereafter befal the King, she\nfrankly admitted she had played him some tricks, but that was the full\nextent of her vengeance.\n\nAfter that, she assured them that they would be all very happy with\nher; that they should have flocks to keep, crooks, bows, arrows, and\nfishing-rods, in order that they might amuse themselves in a hundred\ndifferent ways. She gave them shepherds' dresses of the most elegant\ndescription, including the Prince with the others,--their names and\ndevices being on their crooks; and that very evening the young Prince\nexchanged crooks with the charming Mirtis.\n\nThe next day Madame Tu-tu led them to the most delightful promenade in\nthe world, and showed them the best pasturage for their sheep, and a\nfine country for the chase.\n\n\"You can go,\" said she, \"on this side as far as that beautiful river,\nbut never to the opposite shore; and you may hunt in this wood; but\nbeware,\" said she, \"of passing a great oak, which is in the midst of\nthe forest; it is very remarkable, for it has roots and trunk of iron.\nIf you go beyond it, misfortunes may happen to you, from which I cannot\nprotect you; and, besides that, I should not perhaps be in a position\nto assist you promptly, for a fairy has plenty of occupation.\"\n\nThe young shepherds assured her that they would do exactly as she\nprescribed; and all four, leading their flocks into the meadows, left\nMadam Tu-tu alone with the Good Woman. She remarked some anxiety in her\nmanner. \"What is the matter, madam?\" said the Fairy; \"what cloud has\ncome over your mind?\" \"I will not deny,\" said the Good Woman, \"that\nI am uneasy at leaving them all thus together. I have for some time\nperceived with sorrow that Finfin and Lirette love each other more\nthan is desirable, and here, to add to my trouble, another attachment\nsprings up: the Prince and Mirtis do not dislike each other, and I fear\nto leave their youth exposed to the wandering of their hearts.\"\n\n\"You have brought up these two young girls so well,\" replied Madam\nTu-tu, \"that you need fear nothing: I will answer for their discretion;\nI will enlighten you as to their destiny.\"\n\nShe then informed her that Finfin was the son of the wicked King, and\nbrother of the young Prince; that Mirtis and Lirette were sisters, and\ndaughters of the deceased King, who had been murdered, and who was the\nbrother of the Queen, whom the cruel usurper had married,--so that\nthese four young persons were near relations; that the wicked King had\nascended the throne after having committed a hundred atrocities, which\nhe wished to crown by the murder of the two Princesses; that the Queen\ndid all she could to prevent him, and not being able to succeed, she\nhad called her (the Fairy) to her assistance; that she then told the\nQueen she would save them, but that she could only do so by taking with\nthem her eldest son; that she undertook to promise she should see them\nagain some day in happiness; that on those conditions, the Queen had\nconsented to a separation, which appeared at first very hard; that she\nhad carried them all three off, and that she had confided them to the\ncare of the Good Woman as the person most worthy of such an office.\n\nAfter this the Fairy begged her to be at ease, assuring her that the\nunion of these young Princes would restore peace to the kingdom,\nwherein Finfin would reign with Lirette. The Good Woman listened to\nthis discourse with great interest; but not without letting fall\nsome tears. Madam Tu-tu was surprised at this emotion, and asked the\ncause. \"Alas!\" said she, \"I fear they will lose their innocence by\nthis grandeur to which they will be elevated, and that so brilliant a\nfortune will corrupt their virtue.\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the Fairy, \"do not fear so great a misfortune; the\nprinciples you have instilled into them are too excellent. It is\npossible to be a king and yet an honest man. You know that there is one\nin the universe who is the model of perfect monarchs.[14] Therefore set\nyour mind at rest; I shall be with you as much as possible, and I hope\nyou will not be melancholy here.\"\n\nThe Good Woman believed her, and after a short time felt perfectly\nsatisfied. The young shepherds were so happy also that they desired\nnothing but the continuance of their agreeable mode of life. Their\npleasures, although tranquil, were not without interest: they saw each\nother every day, and the days only appeared to them too short.\n\nThe bad King learnt that they were with Madam Tu-tu, but all his power\ncould not take them away from her. He knew by what magic spells she\nprotected them; he saw clearly that he could only get the better of\nthem by stratagem; he had not been able to inhabit the House of Roses\nin consequence of the continual tricks played on him by Madam Tu-tu; he\nhated her more than ever, as well as the Good Woman; and his hatred now\nextended also to his son.\n\nHe employed all kinds of artifice in order to get into his power\nsome one of the four young shepherds, but his art did not extend to\nthe dominions of Madam Tu-tu. One unlucky day (there are some which\nwe cannot avoid), these amiable shepherds had bent their steps in the\ndirection of the fatal oak, when the beautiful Lirette perceived upon\na tree, about twenty paces distant, a bird of such rare plumage, that\nshe let fly an arrow at it on the impulse of the moment, and seeing the\nbird fall dead, ran to pick it up. All this was done instantaneously,\nand without reflection; but the poor Lirette found, to her cost, that\nshe was caught herself. It was impossible for her to return; she\ndesired, but had no power to do so. She discovered her error, and\nall she could do was to extend her arms for pity to her brothers and\nsisters. Mirtis began to cry, and Finfin, without hesitation, ran to\nher. \"I will perish with you,\" he cried, and in a moment had joined her.\n\nMirtis wished to follow them, but the young Prince detained her. \"Let\nus go and apprise Madame Tu-tu of this,\" said he; \"that is the best\nassistance we can render them.\" At the same moment they saw the people\nof the wicked King seize them, and all they could do was to cry adieu\nto each other.\n\nThe King had caused this beautiful bird to be placed there by his\nhunters, to serve as a snare for the shepherds: he fully expected what\nhad come to pass. They led Lirette and Finfin before the cruel monarch,\nwho abused them terribly, and had them confined in a dark and strong\nprison: it was then they began to lament that their little cherry and\nalmond had lost their virtue. The fawn and the partridge sought for\nthem, but the fawn not being able to see them, shed some tears of\ngrief, and finding the King had given orders that she should be taken\nand burnt alive, she saved herself by running fast to Mirtis. The\npartridge was more fortunate, for she saw them every day through the\ngrating of their prison: happily for them, the King had not thought of\nseparating them. When one loves, it is a pleasure to suffer together.\n\nThe partridge flew back every day, and came to tell the news to Madame\nTu-tu, the Good Woman, and Mirtis. Mirtis was very unhappy, and without\nthe handsome Prince she would have been inconsolable. She resolved to\nwrite to these poor captives by the faithful partridge, and hung a\nlittle bottle of ink to her neck, with some paper, and put a pen in her\nbeak. The good partridge, thus loaded, presented herself at the bars of\nthe prison, and it was a great delight to our young shepherds to see\nher again. Finfin put out his hand and took from her all she brought\nhim, after which they began to read as follows:[15]\n\n          _Mirtis and the Prince to Lirette and Finfin._\n\n \"Know you how we languish during this cruel separation; that we sigh\n incessantly, and that perhaps it may kill us. We should already have\n died, had we not been sustained by hope. That hope has supported us\n ever since Madam Tu-tu has assured us that you still lived. Believe\n us, dear Lirette and Finfin, we shall meet again, despite of malice,\n and be happy.\"\n\nThis letter had a powerful effect on the minds of Lirette and Finfin.\nThey were filled with joy, and wrote immediately this reply:--\n\n           _Lirette and Finfin to Mirtis and the Prince._\n\n \"We have received your letter with extreme pleasure. It has rejoiced\n us more than we could have anticipated. In these regions of horror\n our torments would be insupportable, but for the sweet consolation we\n derive from each other's presence. Near the object of our affections,\n we are insensible to pain, and love renders everything delightful.\n Adieu, dear Prince, adieu, Mirtis. Encourage your mutual passion. Be\n always inspired by a tender fidelity. You hold out a hope to us in\n which we participate. The greatest blessing which can occur to us will\n be accompanied by your presence.\"\n\nFinfin having attached this note to the neck of the partridge, she\nflew away with it very quickly. The young shepherds received great\nconsolation from it, but the Good Woman could not be comforted from\nthe moment she had been separated from those so dear to her, and\nwhom she knew to be in so much peril. \"How quickly my happiness has\nvanished,\" said she to Madame Tu-tu; \"I seem to have been born only\nto be continually agitated. I thought I had taken the only means for\nensuring my repose; how purblind are mortals!\" \"And do you not know,\"\nreplied the Fairy, \"that there is no state of existence in this world\nin which one can live always happily.\" \"I do,\" replied the Good Woman,\nmournfully; \"and if one cannot find happiness in one's self, it is\nseldom found elsewhere. But, Madam, consider the fate of my children, I\nbeg of you!\" \"They have not remembered the orders I gave them,\" replied\nMadame Tu-tu; \"but let us think of a remedy.\"\n\nMadame Tu-tu entered her library with the Good Woman. She read nearly\nall the night, and having at length taken down and opened a large book,\nwhich she had frequently passed over, although its sides were covered\nwith plates of gold, she appeared plunged, on a sudden, into a state\nof excessive sadness. After some time, and just as day was breaking,\nthe Good Woman observing a few tears fall on the leaves of the book,\ntook the liberty to ask the cause of the Fairy's sorrow. \"I grieve,\"\nsaid she, \"at the irrevocable decree of Fate, which I have learned from\nthese pages, and which I shudder and tremble to acquaint you with.\"\n\"Are they dead?\" cried the Good Woman. \"No,\" pursued Madame Tu-tu; \"but\nnothing can save them, unless you or I go and present ourselves to the\nKing, and satisfy his vengeance. I confess the truth to you, Madam,\"\ncontinued the Fairy, \"that I do not feel sufficient affection for them,\nnor enough courage, to go thus and expose myself to his fury, and I\nquestion, also, if any one could be found capable of such a sacrifice.\"\n\"Pardon me, Madam,\" replied the Good Woman, with great firmness; \"I\nwill go seek this King; no sacrifice is too great for me that will save\nmy children. I will pour out for them, with all my heart, every drop of\nblood which I have in my veins.\"\n\nMadam Tu-tu could not sufficiently admire so grand a resolution; she\npromised to assist her in every way in her power; but that she found\nherself limited in this instance, in consequence of the fault which\nthey had committed. The Good Woman took leave of her, and would not\nacquaint Mirtis or the Prince with her design, for fear of affecting\nthem and weakening her own determination. She set out with the\npartridge flying by her side; and as they passed the iron oak, the\npartridge snatched with her beak a little moss from its trunk, and\nplaced it in the hands of the Good Woman. \"When you are in the greatest\nperil which can befall you,\" said she to her, \"throw this moss at the\nfeet of the King.\" The Good Woman treasured up these words, and hardly\nhad she advanced some steps when she was seized by some of the wicked\nKing's soldiers, whom he always kept in readiness on the outskirts of\nthe domain of Madam Tu-tu. They led her before him. \"I have thee at\nlast, wicked creature!\" said he; \"I will put thee to death by the most\ncruel torture!\" \"I came but for that purpose,\" replied she, \"and thou\nmayst exercise thy cruelty as thou wilt on me, only spare my children,\nwho are so young and incapable of having offended thee. I offer thee\nmy life for theirs.\" All who heard these words were filled with pity\nat her magnanimity; the King alone was unmoved. The Queen, who was\npresent, shed a torrent of tears. The King was so indignant with\nher that he would have killed her, if her attendants had not placed\nthemselves between them. She fled, uttering piercing cries.\n\nThe barbarous King caused the Good Woman to be shut up, ordering them\nto feed her well, in order to render approaching death more frightful\nto her. He commanded them to fill a pit with snakes, vipers, and\nserpents, promising himself the pleasure of precipitating the Good\nWoman into it. What a horrible mode of execution! It makes one shudder\nto think of it!\n\nThe officers of this unjust Prince obeyed him with regret; and when\nthey had fulfilled this frightful order, the King came to the spot.\nThey were about to bind the Good Woman, when she begged them not to do\nso, assuring them that she had sufficient courage to meet death with\nher hands free; and, feeling she had no time to lose, she approached\nthe King, and threw the moss at his feet. He was at that moment close\nto the frightful gulf, and stepping forward to inspect it again with\npleasure, his feet slipped on the moss, and he fell in. Hardly had he\nreached the bottom of the pit, when the sanguinary reptiles darted upon\nhim, and stung him to death, and the Good Woman, at the same instant,\nfound herself in company with her dear partridge in the House of Roses.\n\nWhilst these things were happening, Finfin and Lirette were almost dead\nwith misery in their fearful prison; their innocent affection alone\nkept them alive. They were saying very sad and very affecting things to\neach other, when they perceived on a sudden the doors of their dungeon\nopen and admit Mirtis, the handsome Prince, and Madam Tu-tu, who threw\nthemselves on their necks, and who, though speaking all at once, failed\nnot, in the midst of this joyful confusion, to announce the death of\nthe King. \"He was your father, Finfin, as well as that of the Prince,\"\nsaid Madam Tu-tu; \"but he was unnatural and tyrannical, and would a\nhundred times have put the Queen, your dear mother, to death. Let us go\nto seek her.\" They did so. Her amiable nature made her feel some regret\nat the death of the King, her husband. Finfin and the Prince also paid\nall decent respect to his memory. Finfin was acknowledged King, and\nMirtis and Lirette Princesses. They went all together to the House of\nRoses, to see the generous Good Woman, who thought she should die of\njoy in embracing them. They all acknowledged that they owed their lives\nto her, and more than their lives, as they were indebted to her for\ntheir happiness also.\n\nFrom that moment they considered themselves perfectly happy. The\nmarriages were celebrated with great pomp. King Finfin espoused the\nPrincess Lirette, and Mirtis the Prince. When these splendid nuptials\nwere over, the Good Woman asked permission to retire to the House of\nRoses. They were very unwilling to consent to this, but yielded to her\nsincere wish. The widowed Queen also desired to pass the rest of her\nlife with the Good Woman, and the partridge and the fawn did likewise.\nThey were quite disgusted with the world, and found tranquillity in\nthat charming retreat. Madam Tu-tu often went to visit them, as did the\nKing and Queen, the Prince and Princess.\n\nHappy those who can imitate the actions of the Good Woman. Such\ngrandeur of soul must ever meet due reward. Little do they fear being\nwrecked on the shoals of Fortune, who can give up all with so much\ncourage. Discretion, Sense, Virtue--what may not mortals owe to you,\ntheir truest friends in need.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[14] Louis XIV., \"Le Grande Monarque.\"\n\n[15] I have not thought it necessary to run into rhyme the\nexceedingly prosaic effusions of the two pairs of lovers.\n\n\n\n\nMADAME DE VILLENEUVE.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\nTHE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.\n\n\nIn a country very far from this is to be seen a great city wherein\ntrade flourishes abundantly. It numbered amongst its citizens a\nmerchant, who succeeded in all his speculations, and upon whom Fortune,\nresponding to his wishes, had always showered her fairest favours. But\nif he had immense wealth, he had also a great many children, his family\nconsisting of six boys and six girls. None of them were settled in\nlife: the boys were too young to think of it; the girls, too proud of\ntheir fortunes, upon which they had every reason to count, could not\neasily determine upon the choice they should make. Their vanity was\nflattered by the attentions of the handsomest young gentlemen. But a\nreverse of fortune which they did not at all expect, came to trouble\ntheir felicity. Their house took fire; the splendid furniture with\nwhich it was filled, the account books, the notes, gold, silver, and\nall the valuable stores which formed the merchant's principal wealth,\nwere enveloped in this fatal conflagration, which was so violent\nthat very few of the things could be saved. This first misfortune\nwas but the forerunner of others. The father, with whom hitherto\neverything had prospered, lost at the same time, either by shipwreck\nor by pirates, all the ships he had at sea; his correspondents made\nhim a bankrupt, his foreign agents were treacherous; in short, from\nthe greatest opulence, he suddenly fell into the most abject poverty.\nHe had nothing left but a small country house, situated in a lonely\nplace, more than a hundred leagues from the city in which he usually\nresided. Impelled to seek a place of refuge from noise and tumult, he\ntook his family to this retired spot, who were in despair at such a\nrevolution. The daughters of this unfortunate merchant were especially\nhorrified at the prospect of the life they should have to lead in this\ndull solitude. For some time they flattered themselves that, when\ntheir father's intention became known, their lovers, who had hitherto\nsued in vain, would be only too happy to find they were inclined to\nlisten to them. They imagined that the many admirers of each would be\nall striving to obtain the preference. They thought if they wished\nonly for a husband they would obtain one; but they did not remain\nvery long in such a delightful illusion. They had lost their greatest\nattractions when, like a flash of lightning, their father's splendid\nfortune had disappeared, and their time for choosing had departed with\nit. Their crowd of admirers vanished at the moment of their downfall;\ntheir beauty was not sufficiently powerful to retain one of them.\nTheir friends were not more generous than their lovers. From the hour\nthey became poor, every one, without exception, ceased to know them.\nSome were even cruel enough to impute their misfortunes to their own\nacts. Those whom the father had most obliged were his most vehement\ncalumniators: they reported that all his calamities were brought on by\nhis own bad conduct, his prodigality, and the foolish extravagance of\nhimself and his children.\n\nThis wretched family, therefore, could not do better than depart\nfrom a city wherein everybody took a pleasure in insulting them in\ntheir misfortunes. Having no resource whatever, they shut themselves\nup in their country house, situated in the middle of an almost\nimpenetrable forest, and which might well be considered the saddest\nabode in the world. What misery they had to endure in this frightful\nsolitude! They were forced to do the hardest work. Not being able\nto have any one to wait upon them, this unfortunate merchant's sons\nwere compelled to divide the servant's duties amongst them, as well\nas to exert themselves in every way that people must do who have to\nearn their livelihood in the country. The daughters, on their part,\nhad sufficient employment. Like the poor peasant girls, they found\nthemselves obliged to employ their delicate hands in all the labours\nof a rural life. Wearing nothing but woollen dresses, having nothing\nto gratify their vanity, existing upon what the land could give them,\nlimited to common necessaries, but still retaining a refined and dainty\ntaste, these girls incessantly regretted the city and its attractions.\nThe recollection even of their younger days passed so rapidly in a\nround of mirth and pleasure was their greatest torment. The youngest\ngirl, however, displayed greater perseverance and firmness in their\ncommon misfortune. She bore her lot cheerfully, and with a strength\nof mind much beyond her years: not but what, at first, she was truly\nmelancholy. Alas! who would not have felt such misfortunes. But, after\ndeploring her father's ruin, could she do better than resume her former\ngaiety, make up her mind to the position she was placed in, and forget\na world which she and her family had found so ungrateful, and the\nfriendship of which she was so fully persuaded was not to be relied\nupon in the time of adversity?\n\nAnxious to console herself and her brothers, by her amiable disposition\nand sprightliness, there was nothing she did not do to amuse them.\nThe merchant had spared no cost in her education, nor in that of her\nsisters. At this sad period she derived all the advantage from it she\ndesired. As she could play exceedingly well upon various instruments,\nand sing to them charmingly, she asked her sisters to follow her\nexample, but her cheerfulness and patience only made them more\nmiserable. These girls, who were so inconsolable in their ill fortune,\nthought their youngest sister showed a poor and mean spirit, and even\nsilliness, to be so merry in the state it had pleased Providence to\nreduce them to. \"How happy she is,\" said the eldest; \"she was intended\nfor such coarse occupations. With such low notions, what would she\nhave done in the world?\" Such remarks were unjust. This young person\nwas much more fitted to shine in society than either of them. She was\na perfectly beautiful young creature, her good temper rendered her\nadorable. A generous and tender heart was visible in all her words and\nactions. Quite as much alive to the reverses that had just overwhelmed\nher family as either of her sisters, by a strength of mind which is not\ncommon in her sex, she concealed her sorrow, and rose superior to her\nmisfortunes. So much firmness was considered to be insensibility. But\none can easily appeal from a judgment pronounced by jealousy.\n\nEvery intelligent person, who saw her in her true light, was eager to\ngive her the preference over her sisters. In the midst of her greatest\nsplendour, although distinguished by her merit, she was so handsome\nthat she was called \"The Beauty.\" Known by this name only, what more\nwas required to increase the jealousy and hatred of her sisters? Her\ncharms, and the general esteem in which she was held, might have\ninduced her to hope for a much more advantageous establishment than\nher sisters; but feeling only for her father's misfortunes, far from\nretarding his departure from a city in which she had enjoyed so much\npleasure, she did all she could to expedite it. This young girl was as\ncontented in their solitude as she had been in the midst of the world.\nTo amuse herself in her hours of relaxation, she would dress her hair\nwith flowers, and, like the shepherdesses of former times, forgetting\nin a rural life all that had most gratified her in the height of\nopulence, every day brought to her some new innocent pleasure.\n\nTwo years had already passed, and the family began to be accustomed\nto a country life, when a hope of returning prosperity arrived to\ndiscompose their tranquillity. The father received news that one of\nhis vessels, that he thought was lost, had safely arrived in port,\nrichly laden. His informants added, they feared the factors would\ntake advantage of his absence, and sell the cargo at a low price, and\nby this fraud make a great profit at his expense. He imparted these\ntidings to his children, who did not doubt for an instant but that\nthey should soon be enabled to return from exile. The girls, much\nmore impatient than the boys, thinking it was unnecessary to wait\nfor more certain proof, were anxious to set out instantly, and to\nleave everything behind them. But the father, who was more prudent,\nbegged them to moderate their delight. However important he was to\nhis family at a time when the labours of the field could not be\ninterrupted without great loss, he determined to leave his sons to get\nin the harvest, and that he would set out upon this long journey. His\ndaughters, with the exception of the youngest, expected they would\nsoon be restored to their former opulence. They fancied that, even if\ntheir father's property would not be considerable enough to settle them\nin the great metropolis, their native place, he would at least have\nsufficient for them to live in a less expensive city. They trusted\nthey should find good society there, attract admirers, and profit\nby the first offer that might be made to them. Scarcely remembering\nthe troubles they had undergone for the last two years, believing\nthemselves to be already, as by a miracle, removed from poverty into\nthe lap of plenty, they ventured (for retirement had not cured them\nof the taste for luxury and display) to overwhelm their father with\nfoolish commissions. They requested him to make purchases of jewelry,\nattire, and head-dresses. Each endeavoured to outvie the other in her\ndemands, so that the sum total of their father's supposed fortune would\nnot have been sufficient to satisfy them.\n\nBeauty, who was not the slave of ambition, and who always acted with\nprudence, saw directly that if he executed her sisters' commissions,\nit would be useless for her to ask for anything. But the father,\nastonished at her silence, said, interrupting his insatiable daughters,\n\"Well, Beauty, dost thou not desire anything? What shall I bring thee?\nwhat dost thou wish for? Speak freely.\" \"My dear papa,\" replied the\namiable girl, embracing him affectionately, \"I wish for one thing more\nprecious than all the ornaments my sisters have asked you for; I have\nlimited my desires to it, and shall be only too happy if they can be\nfulfilled. It is the gratification of seeing you return in perfect\nhealth.\" This answer was so unmistakeably disinterested, that it\ncovered the others with shame and confusion. They were so angry, that\none of them, answering for the rest, said with bitterness, \"This child\ngives herself great airs, and fancies that she will distinguish herself\nby these affected heroics. Surely nothing can be more ridiculous.\"\nBut the father, touched by her expressions, could not help showing\nhis delight at them; appreciating, too, the feeling which induced her\nto ask nothing for herself, he begged she would choose something; and\nto allay the ill-will that his other daughters had towards her, he\nobserved to her that such indifference to dress was not natural at her\nage--that there was a time for everything. \"Very well, my dear father,\"\nsaid she, \"since you desire me to make some request, I beg you will\nbring me a rose; I love that flower passionately, and since I have\nlived in this desert I have not had the pleasure of seeing one.\" This\nwas to obey her father, and at the same time to avoid putting him to\nany expense for her.\n\nAt length the day arrived, that this good old man was compelled to\nleave his family. He travelled as fast as he could to the great city to\nwhich the prospect of a new fortune recalled him. But he did not meet\nwith the benefits he had hoped for. His vessel had certainly arrived;\nbut his partners, believing him to be dead, had taken possession of\nit, and all the cargo had been disposed of. Thus, instead of entering\ninto the full and peaceable possession of that which belonged to him,\nhe was compelled to encounter all sorts of chicanery in the pursuit of\nhis rights. He overcame them, but after more than six months of trouble\nand expense, he was not any richer than he was before. His debtors\nhad become insolvent, and he could hardly defray his own costs. Thus\nterminated this dream of riches.\n\nTo add to his disagreeables, he was obliged, on the score of economy,\nto start on his homeward journey at the most inconvenient time, and in\nthe most frightful weather. Exposed on the road to the piercing blasts,\nhe thought he should die with fatigue; but when he found himself within\na few miles of his house (which he did not reckon upon leaving for such\nfalse hopes, and which Beauty had shown her sense in mistrusting) his\nstrength returned to him. It would be some hours before he could cross\nthe forest; it was late, but he wished to continue his journey. He\nwas benighted, suffering from intense cold, buried, one might say, in\nthe snow, with his horse; not knowing which way to bend his steps, he\nthought his last hour had come: no hut in his road, although the forest\nwas filled with them. A tree, hollowed by age, was the best shelter he\ncould find, and only too happy was he to hide himself in it. This tree\nprotecting him from the cold, was the means of saving his life; and the\nhorse, a little distance from his master, perceiving another hollow\ntree, was led by instinct to take shelter in that.\n\nThe night, in such a situation, appeared to him to be never-ending;\nfurthermore, he was famished, frightened at the roaring of the wild\nbeasts, that were constantly passing by him. Could he be at peace for\nan instant? His trouble and anxiety did not end with the night. He\nhad no sooner the pleasure of seeing daylight than his distress was\ngreater. The ground appeared so extraordinarily covered with snow, no\nroad could he find--no track was to be seen. It was only after great\nfatigue and frequent falls, that he succeeded in discovering something\nlike a path upon which he could keep his footing.\n\nProceeding without knowing in which direction, chance led him into\nthe avenue of a beautiful castle, which the snow seemed to have\nrespected. It consisted of four rows of orange-trees, laden with\nflowers and fruit. Statues were seen here and there, regardless of\norder or symmetry--some were in the middle of the road, others among\nthe trees--all after the strangest fashion; they were of the size of\nlife, and had the colour of human beings, in different attitudes, and\nin various dresses, the greatest number representing warriors. Arriving\nat the first court-yard, he perceived a great many more statues. He was\nsuffering so much from cold that he could not stop to examine them. An\nagate staircase, with balusters of chased gold, first presented itself\nto his sight: he passed through several magnificently furnished rooms;\na gentle warmth which he breathed in them renovated him. He needed\nfood; but to whom could he apply? This large and magnificent edifice\nappeared to be inhabited only by statues. A profound silence reigned\nthroughout it; nevertheless it had not the air of an old palace that\nhad been deserted. The halls, the rooms, the galleries were all open;\nno living thing appeared to be in this charming place.\n\nWeary of wandering over this vast dwelling, he stopped in a saloon,\nwherein was a large fire. Presuming that it was prepared for some one,\nwho would not be long in appearing, he drew near the fireplace to warm\nhimself; but no one came. Seated on a sofa near the fire, a sweet sleep\nclosed his eyelids, and left him no longer in a condition to observe\nthe entrance of any one. Fatigue induced him to sleep; hunger awoke\nhim; he had been suffering from it for the last twenty-four hours.\nThe exercise that he had taken ever since he had been in this palace\nincreased his appetite. When he awoke and opened his eyes, he was\nastonished to see a table elegantly laid. A light repast would not have\nsatisfied him; but the viands, magnificently dressed, invited him to\neat of everything.\n\nHis first care was to utter in a loud voice his thanks to those from\nwhom he had received so much kindness, and he then resolved to wait\nquietly till it pleased his host to make himself known to him. As\nfatigue caused him to sleep before his repast, so did the food produce\nthe same effect, and his repose was longer and more powerful; in fact,\nthis second time he slept for at least four hours. Upon awaking, in\nthe place of the first table he saw another of porphyry, upon which\nsome kind hand had set out a collation consisting of cakes, preserved\nfruits, and liqueurs. This was likewise for his use. Profiting,\ntherefore, by the kindness shown him, he partook of everything that\nsuited his appetite, his taste, and his fancy.\n\nFinding at length no one to speak to, or to inform him whether\nthis palace was inhabited by a man or by a God, fear began to take\npossession of him, for he was naturally timid. He resolved, therefore,\nto repass through all the apartments, and overwhelm with thanks the\nGenius to whom he was indebted for so much kindness, and in the most\nrespectful manner solicit him to appear. All his attentions were\nuseless: no appearance of servants, no result by which he could\nascertain that the palace was inhabited. Thinking seriously of what he\nshould do, he began to fancy, for what reason he could not imagine,\nthat some good spirit had made this mansion a present to him, with\nall the riches that it contained. This idea seemed like inspiration,\nand without further delay, making a new inspection of it, he took\npossession of all the treasures he could find. More than this, he\nsettled in his own mind what share of it he should allow to each of his\nchildren, and selected the apartments which would particularly suit\nthem, enjoying the delight beforehand which his journey would afford\nthem. He entered the garden, where, in spite of the severity of the\nwinter, the rarest flowers were exhaling the most delicious perfume in\nthe mildest and purest air. Birds of all kinds blending their songs\nwith the confused noise of the waters, made an agreeable harmony.\n\nThe old man, in ecstasies at such wonders, said to himself, \"My\ndaughters will not, I think, find it very difficult to accustom\nthemselves to this delicious abode. I cannot believe that they will\nregret, or that they will prefer the city to this mansion. Let me set\nout directly,\" cried he, in a transport of joy rather uncommon for\nhim; \"I shall increase my happiness in witnessing theirs: I will take\npossession at once.\"\n\nUpon entering this charming castle he had taken care, notwithstanding\nhe was nearly perished, to unbridle his horse and let him wend his\nway to a stable which he had observed in the fore-court. An alley,\nornamented by palisades, formed by rose-bushes in full bloom, led to\nit. He had never seen such lovely roses. Their perfume reminded him\nthat he had promised to give Beauty a rose. He picked one, and was\nabout to gather enough to make half-a-dozen bouquets, when a most\nfrightful noise made him turn round. He was terribly alarmed upon\nperceiving at his side a horrible beast, which, with an air of fury,\nlaid upon his neck a kind of trunk, resembling an elephant's, and said,\nwith a terrific voice, \"Who gave thee permission to gather my roses?\nIs it not enough that I kindly allowed thee to remain in my palace.\nInstead of feeling grateful, rash man, I find thee stealing my flowers!\nThy insolence shall not remain unpunished.\" The good man, already too\nmuch overpowered by the unexpected appearance of this monster, thought\nhe should die of fright at these words, and quickly throwing away\nthe fatal rose. \"Ah! my Lord,\" said he, prostrating himself before\nhim, \"have mercy on me! I am not ungrateful! Penetrated by all your\nkindness, I did not imagine that so slight a liberty could possibly\nhave offended you.\" The monster very angrily replied, \"Hold thy tongue,\nthou foolish talker. I care not for thy flattery, nor for the titles\nthou bestowest on me. I am not 'my Lord;' I am The Beast; and thou\nshalt not escape the death thou deservest.\"\n\nThe merchant, dismayed at so cruel a sentence, and thinking that\nsubmission was the only means to preserve his life, said, in a truly\naffecting manner, that the rose he had dared to take was for one of his\ndaughters, called Beauty. Then, whether he hoped to escape from death,\nor to induce his enemy to feel for him, he related to him all his\nmisfortunes; he told him the object of his journey, and did not omit to\ndwell on the little present he was bound to give Beauty; adding, that\nwas the only thing she had asked for, while the riches of a king would\nhardly have sufficed to satisfy the wishes of his other daughters; and\nso came to the opportunity which had offered itself to satisfy the\nmodest desire of Beauty, and his belief that he could have done so\nwithout any unpleasant consequences; asking pardon, moreover, for his\ninvoluntary fault. The Beast considered for a moment, then, speaking\nin a milder tone, he said to him, \"I will pardon thee, but upon\ncondition that thou wilt give me one of thy daughters--I require some\none to repair this fault.\" \"Just Heaven!\" replied the merchant; \"how\ncan I keep my word? Could I be so inhuman as to save my own life at the\nexpense of one of my children's; under what pretext could I bring her\nhere?\" \"There must be no pretext,\" interrupted the Beast. \"I expect\nthat whichever daughter you bring here she will come willingly, or I\nwill not have either of them. Go; see if there be not one amongst them\nsufficiently courageous, and loving thee enough, to sacrifice herself\nto save thy life. Thou appearest to be an honest man. Give me thy word\nof honour to return in a month. If thou canst decide to bring one of\nthem back with thee, she will remain here and thou wilt return home. If\nthou canst not do so, promise me to return hither alone, after bidding\nthem farewell for ever, for thou wilt belong to me. Do not fancy,\"\ncontinued the Monster, grinding his teeth, \"that by merely agreeing\nto my proposition thou wilt be saved. I warn thee, if thou thinkest\nso to escape me, I will seek for thee, and destroy thee and thy race,\nalthough a hundred thousand men appear to defend thee.\"\n\nThe good man, although quite convinced that he should not vainly put to\nthe proof the devotion of his daughters, accepted, nevertheless, the\nMonster's proposition. He promised to return to him at the time named,\nand give himself up to his sad fate, without rendering it necessary\nfor the Beast to seek for him. After this assurance he thought himself\nat liberty to retire and take leave of the Beast, whose presence was\nmost distressing to him. The respite was but brief, yet he feared he\nmight revoke it. He expressed his anxiety to depart; but the Beast told\nhim he should not do so till the following day. \"Thou wilt find,\" said\nhe, \"a horse ready at break of day. He will carry thee home quickly.\nAdieu--go to supper, and await my orders.\"\n\nThe poor man, more dead than alive, returned to the saloon in which\nhe had feasted so heartily. Before a large fire his supper, already\nlaid, invited him to sit and enjoy it. The delicacy and richness of\nthe dishes had no longer, however, any temptation for him. Overwhelmed\nby his grief, he would not have seated himself at the table, but that\nhe feared that the Beast was concealed somewhere, and observing him,\nand that he would excite his anger by any slight of his bounty. To\navoid further disaster, he made a momentary truce with his grief, and,\nas well as his afflicted heart would permit, he tasted, in turn, the\nvarious dishes. At the end of the repast a great noise was heard in the\nadjoining apartment, and he did not doubt that it was his formidable\nhost. As he could not manage to avoid his presence, he tried to recover\nfrom the alarm which this sudden noise had caused him. At the same\nmoment, the Beast, who appeared, asked him abruptly if he had made a\ngood supper. The good man replied, in a modest and timid tone, that he\nhad, thanks to his attention, eaten heartily. \"Promise me,\" replied\nthe Monster, \"to remember your word to me, and to keep it as a man of\nhonour, in bringing me one of your daughters.\"\n\nThe old man, who was not much entertained with this conversation, swore\nto him that he would fulfil what he had promised, and return in a month\nalone or with one of his daughters, if he should find one who loved\nhim sufficiently to follow him on the conditions he must propose to\nher. \"I warn thee again,\" said the Beast, \"to take care not to deceive\nher as to the sacrifice which thou must exact from her, or the danger\nshe will incur. Paint to her my face such as it is. Let her know what\nshe is about to do: above all, let her be firm in her resolution.\nThere will be no time for reflection when thou shalt have brought her\nhither. There must be no drawing back: thou wilt be equally lost,\nwithout obtaining for her the liberty to return.\" The merchant, who was\novercome at this discourse, reiterated his promise to conform to all\nthat was prescribed to him. The Monster, satisfied with his answer,\nordered him to retire to rest, and not to rise till he should see the\nsun, and hear a golden bell.\n\n\"Thou wilt breakfast before setting out,\" said he again; \"and thou\nmayest take a rose with thee for Beauty. The horse which shall bear\nthee will be ready in the court-yard. I reckon on seeing thee again\nin a month, if thou art an honest man. If thou failest in thy word,\nI shall pay thee a visit.\" The good man, for fear of prolonging a\nconversation already too painful to him, made a profound reverence to\nthe Beast, who told him again not to be anxious respecting the road by\nwhich he should return; as at the time appointed the same horse which\nhe would mount the next morning would be found at his gate, and would\nsuffice for his daughter and himself.\n\nHowever little disposition the old man felt for sleep, he dared not\ndisobey the orders he had received. Obliged to lie down, he did not\nrise till the sun began to illumine the chamber. His breakfast was\nsoon despatched, and he then descended into the garden to gather the\nrose which the Beast had ordered him to take to Beauty. How many tears\nthis flower caused him to shed. But the fear of drawing on himself new\ndisasters made him constrain his feelings, and he went, without further\ndelay, in search of the horse which had been promised him. He found on\nthe saddle a light but warm cloak. As soon as the horse felt him on his\nback, he set off with incredible speed. The merchant, who in a moment\nlost sight of this fatal palace, experienced as great a sensation of\njoy as he had on the previous evening felt in perceiving it, with this\ndifference, that the delight of leaving it was embittered by the cruel\nnecessity of returning to it.\n\n\"To what have I pledged myself?\" said he, whilst his courser carried\nhim with a velocity and a lightness which is only known in fairy land.\n\"Would it not be better that I should become at once the victim of this\nmonster who thirsts for the blood of my family? By a promise I have\nmade, as unnatural as it is indiscreet, I have prolonged my life. Is\nit possible that I could think of extending my days at the expense of\nthose of my daughters? Can I have the barbarity to lead one to him,\nto see him, no doubt, devour her before my eyes?\" But all at once,\ninterrupting himself, he cried, \"Miserable wretch that I am, what\nhave I to fear? If I could find it in my heart to silence the voice\nof nature, would it depend on me to commit this cowardly act? She\nmust know her fate and consent to it. I see no chance that she will\nbe inclined to sacrifice herself for an inhuman father, and I ought\nnot to make such a proposition to her. It is unjust. But even if the\naffection which they all entertain for me should induce one to devote\nherself, would not a single glance at the Beast destroy her constancy,\nand I could not complain. Ah! too imperious Beast,\" exclaimed he, \"thou\nhast done this expressly! By putting an impossible condition to the\nmeans thou offerest me to escape thy fury, and obtain the pardon of\na trifling fault, thou hast added insult to injury! But,\" continued\nhe, \"I cannot bear to think of it. I hesitate no longer; and I would\nrather expose myself without turning away from thy rage, than attempt a\nuseless mode of escape, which my paternal love trembles to employ. Let\nme retrace,\" said he, \"the road to this frightful palace, and without\ndeigning to purchase so dearly the remnant of a life which can never be\nbut miserable--without waiting for the month which is accorded me to\nexpire,--return and terminate this day my miserable existence!\"\n\n  [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 236.]\n\nAt these words he endeavoured to retrace his steps, but he found\nit impossible to turn the bridle of his horse. Allowing himself,\ntherefore, against his will, to be carried forward, he resolved at\nleast to propose nothing to his daughters. Already he saw his house\nin the distance, and strengthening himself more and more in his\nresolution, \"I will not speak to them,\" he said, \"of the danger which\nthreatens me: I shall have the pleasure of embracing them once more; I\nshall give them my last advice; I will beg them to live on good terms\nwith their brothers, whom I shall also implore not to abandon them.\"\n\nIn the midst of this reverie, he reached his door. His own horse, which\nhad found its way home the previous evening, had alarmed his family.\nHis sons, dispersed in the forest, had sought him in every direction;\nand his daughters, in their impatience to hear some tidings of him,\nwere at the door, in order to obtain the earliest intelligence. As he\nwas mounted on a magnificent steed, and wrapt in a rich cloak, they\ncould not recognise him, but took him at first for a messenger sent by\nhim, and the rose which they perceived attached to the pummel of the\nsaddle made them perfectly easy on his account.\n\nWhen this afflicted father, however, approached nearer, they recognised\nhim, and thought only of evincing their satisfaction at seeing him\nreturn in good health. But the sadness depicted in his face, and his\neyes filled with tears, which he vainly endeavoured to restrain,\nchanged their joy into anxiety. All hastened to inquire the cause of\nhis trouble. He made no reply but by saying to Beauty, as he presented\nher with the rose, \"There is what thou hast demanded of me, but thou\nwilt pay dearly for it, as well as the others.\" \"I was certain,\"\nexclaimed the eldest, \"and I was saying, this very moment, that she\nwould be the only one whose commission you would execute. At this time\nof the year, a rose must have cost more than you would have had to\npay for us all five together; and, judging from appearances, the rose\nwill be faded before the day is ended: never mind, however, you were\ndetermined to gratify the fortunate Beauty at any price.\" \"It is true,\"\nreplied the father, mournfully, \"that this rose has cost me dear, and\nmore dear than all the ornaments which you wished for would have done.\nIt is not in money, however; and would to Heaven that I might have\npurchased it with all I am yet worth in the world.\"\n\nThese words excited the curiosity of his children, and dispelled the\nresolution which he had taken not to reveal his adventure. He informed\nthem of the ill-success of his journey, the trouble which he had\nundergone in running after a chimerical fortune, and all that had taken\nplace in the palace of the Monster. After this explanation, despair\ntook the place of hope and of joy.\n\nThe daughters seeing all their projects annihilated by this\nthunderbolt, uttered fearful cries; the brothers, more courageous, said\nresolutely that they would not suffer their father to return to this\nfrightful castle; that they were bold enough to deliver the earth from\nthis horrible Beast, even supposing he should have the temerity to come\nin search of him. The good man, although moved at their affliction,\nforbad them to commit violence, telling them, that as he had given his\nword, he would kill himself rather than fail to keep it.\n\nNotwithstanding this, they sought for expedients to save his life; the\nyoung men, full of courage and filial affection, proposed that one\nof them should go and offer himself as a victim to the wrath of the\nBeast; but the monster had said positively and explicitly that he would\nhave one of the daughters, and not one of the sons. The brave brothers\ngrieved that their good intentions could not be acted upon, then did\nwhat they could to inspire their sisters with the same sentiments. But\ntheir jealousy of Beauty was sufficient to raise an invincible obstacle\nto such heroic action.\n\n\"It is not just,\" said they, \"that we should perish in so frightful a\nmanner for a fault of which we are not guilty. It would be to render\nus victims to Beauty, to whom they would be very glad to sacrifice\nus; but duty does not require such a sacrifice. Here is the fruit of\nthe moderation and perpetual preaching of this unhappy girl! Why did\nshe not ask, like us, for a good stock of clothes and jewels. If we\nhave not had them, it has at all events cost nothing for asking, and\nwe have no cause to reproach ourselves for having exposed the life of\nour father by indiscreet demands. If, by an affected disinterestedness,\nshe had not sought to distinguish herself, as she is in all things\nmore favoured than we, he would have, no doubt, found enough money to\ncontent her. But she must needs, by her singular caprice, bring on us\nall this misfortune. It is she who has caused it, and they wish us\nto pay the penalty. We will not be her dupe. She has brought it on\nherself, and she must find the remedy.\"\n\nBeauty, whose grief had almost deprived her of consciousness,\nsuppressing her sobs and sighs, said to her sisters, \"I am the cause\nof this misfortune; it is I alone who must repair it. I confess it\nwould be unjust to allow you to suffer for my fault. Alas! it was,\nnotwithstanding, an innocent wish. Could I foresee that the desire to\nhave a rose when we were in the middle of summer would be punished so\ncruelly? The fault is committed, however; whether I am innocent or\nguilty, it is just that I should expiate it. It cannot be imputed to\nany one else. I will risk my life,\" pursued she, in a firm tone, \"to\nrelease my father from his fatal engagement. I will go to find the\nBeast; too happy in being able to die in order to preserve the life of\nhim from whom I received mine, and to silence your murmurs. Do not fear\nthat anything can turn me from my purpose; but I pray you during this\nmonth to do me the favour to spare me your reproaches.\"\n\nSo much firmness in a girl of her age surprised them all much; and\nthe brothers, who loved her tenderly, were moved at her resolution.\nThey paid her infinite attention, and felt the loss they were about to\nsustain. But it was requisite to save the life of a father; this pious\nmotive closed their mouths; and well persuaded that it was a thing\ndecided on, far from thinking of combating so generous a purpose, they\ncontented themselves by shedding tears, and giving their sister all\nthe praise which her noble resolution merited, all the more from her\nbeing only sixteen years of age, and having the right to regret a life\nwhich she was about to sacrifice in so cruel a manner. The father\nalone would not consent to the design of his youngest daughter; but the\nothers reproached him insolently with the charge that Beauty alone was\ncared for by him, in spite of the misfortune which she had caused, and\nthat he was sorry that it was not one of the elders who should pay for\nher imprudence.\n\nThis unjust language forced him to desist; besides, Beauty assured him\nthat if he would not accept the exchange, she would make it in spite of\nhim, for she would go alone to seek the Beast, and so perish without\nsaving him. \"How do we know,\" said she, forcing herself to assume more\ntranquillity than she really felt; \"perhaps the dreadful fate which\nappears to await me conceals another as happy as this seems terrible?\"\n\nHer sisters, hearing her speak thus, smiled maliciously at the wild\nidea; they were enchanted at the delusion in which they believed her\nto be indulging. But the old man, conquered by all her reasons, and\nremembering an ancient prediction, by which he had learnt that this\ndaughter should save his life, and that she should be a source of\nhappiness to all her family, ceased to oppose the will of Beauty.\nInsensibly they began to speak of their departure as a thing almost\nindifferent. It was she who gave the tone to the conversation, and in\ntheir presence she appeared to consider it as a happy event; it was\nonly, however, to console her father and brothers, and not to alarm\nthem more than necessary. Although discontented with the conduct of her\nsisters towards her, who appeared even impatient to see her depart,\nand thought the month passed too slowly, she had the generosity to\ndivide all her little property and the jewels which she had at her own\ndisposal amongst them.\n\nThey received with pleasure this new proof of her generosity, but\nwithout abating their hatred of her. An extreme joy took possession of\ntheir hearts when they heard the horse neigh which was sent to carry\naway a sister whose amiability their jealous natures would not allow\nthem to perceive. The father and the sons alone were so afflicted\nthat they could not contain themselves at this fatal moment. They\nproposed to strangle the horse. Beauty, however, preserving all her\ntranquillity, showed them again on this occasion the absurdity of such\na design, and the impossibility of executing it. After having taken\nleave of her brothers, she embraced her hard-hearted sisters, taking\nsuch a tender farewell of them that she drew from them some tears, and\nthey believed, for the space of a few minutes, that they were almost as\nmuch afflicted as their brothers.\n\nDuring these brief, yet lingering leave-takings, the good man, hurried\nby his daughter, had mounted his horse. She placed herself behind him\nwith as much alacrity as though she were going to make an agreeable\njourney. The animal rather flew than walked. But this extreme speed did\nnot inconvenience her in the least; the paces of this singular horse\nwere so gentle that Beauty felt no more shaken by him than she would\nhave been by the breath of a zephyr.\n\nIn vain, during the journey, did her father offer a hundred times to\nallow her to dismount, and to go himself alone to find the Beast.\n\"Consider, my dear child,\" said he; \"there is still time. This Monster\nis more terrible than thou canst imagine. However firm thy resolution\nmay be, I cannot but fear it will fail on beholding him; then it will\nbe too late; thou wilt be lost, and we shall both perish together.\"\n\n\"If I went,\" replied Beauty, \"to seek this terrible Beast with the hope\nof being happy, it is not impossible that that hope would fail me at\nthe sight of him; but as I reckon on a speedy death, and believe it to\nbe unavoidable, what does it signify whether he who shall destroy me be\nagreeable or hideous.\"\n\nConversing thus, night closed around them, but the horse went quite\nas fast in the darkness. It was, however, suddenly dissipated by a\nmost unexpected spectacle. This was caused by the discharge of all\nkinds of beautiful fireworks--flowerpots, catherine-wheels, suns,\nbouquets,--which dazzled the eyes of our travellers. This agreeable and\nunlooked-for illumination lighted up the entire forest, and diffused a\ngentle heat through the air, which was become desirable, for the cold\nin this country was more keenly felt in the night than by day.\n\nBy this charming light the father and daughter found themselves in\nan avenue of orange-trees. At the moment that they entered it the\nfireworks ceased. The illumination was, however, continued by all the\nstatues having in their hands lighted torches. Besides these, lamps\nwithout number covered the front of the palace, symmetrically arranged\nin forms of true-lover's knots and crowned cyphers, consisting of\ndouble LL's and double BB's.[16] On entering the court they were\nreceived by a salute of artillery, which, added to the sound of a\nthousand instruments of various kinds, some soft, some warlike, had a\nfine effect.\n\n\"The Beast must be very hungry indeed,\" said Beauty, half-jestingly,\n\"to make such grand rejoicings at the arrival of his prey.\" However,\nin spite of her agitation at the approach of an event which, according\nto all appearance, was about to be fatal to her, she could not avoid\npaying attention to the magnificent objects which succeeded each other,\nand presented to her view the most beautiful spectacle she had ever\nseen, nor help saying to her father that the preparations for her death\nwere more brilliant than the bridal pomp of the greatest king in the\nworld.\n\nThe horse stopped at the foot of the flight of steps. She alighted\nquickly, and her father, as soon as he had put foot to the ground,\nconducted her by a vestibule to the saloon in which he had been so\nwell entertained. They found there a large fire, lighted candles which\nemitted an exquisite perfume, and, above all, a table splendidly\nserved. The good man, accustomed to the manner in which the Beast\nregaled his guests, told his daughter that this repast was intended\nfor them, and that they were at liberty to avail themselves of it.\nBeauty made no difficulty, well-persuaded that it would not hasten\nher death. On the contrary, she imagined that it would make known\nto the Beast the little repugnance she had felt in coming to see\nhim. She hoped that her frankness might be capable of softening him,\nand even that her adventure might be less sad than she had at first\napprehended. The formidable Monster with which she had been menaced did\nnot show himself, and the whole palace spoke of joy and magnificence.\nIt appeared that her arrival had caused these demonstrations, and it\ndid not seem probable that they could have been designed for a funeral\nceremony.\n\nHer hope did not last long, however. The Monster made himself heard.\nA frightful noise, caused by the enormous weight of his body, by the\nterrible clank of his scales, and an awful roaring, announced his\narrival. Terror took possession of Beauty. The old man, embracing his\ndaughter, uttered piercing cries. But recovering herself in a moment,\nshe suppressed her agitation. Seeing the Beast approach, whom she\ncould not behold without a shudder, she advanced with a firm step,\nand with a modest air saluted him very respectfully. This behaviour\npleased the Monster. After having contemplated her, he said to the old\nman, in a tone which, without being one of anger, might, however, fill\nwith terror the boldest heart, \"Good evening, my good friend;\" and\nturning to Beauty, he said also to her, \"Good evening, Beauty.\" The old\nman, fearing every instant that something awful would happen to his\ndaughter, had not the strength to reply. But Beauty, without agitation\nand in a sweet and firm voice, said, \"Good evening, Beast.\" \"Do you\ncome here voluntarily?\" inquired the Beast; \"and will you consent to\nlet your father depart without following him?\" Beauty replied that she\nhad no other intention. \"Ah! and what do you think will become of you\nafter his departure?\" \"What it may please you,\" said she; \"my life is\nat your disposal, and I submit blindly to the fate which you may doom\nme to.\"\n\n\"I am satisfied with your submission,\" replied the Beast; \"and as it\nappears that they have not brought you here by force, you shall remain\nwith me. As for thee, good man,\" said he to the merchant, \"thou shalt\ndepart to-morrow, at daybreak; the bell will warn you; delay not after\nthy breakfast; the same horse will reconduct thee. But,\" added he,\n\"when thou shalt be in the midst of thy family, dream not of revisiting\nmy palace, and remember it is forbidden thee for ever. You, Beauty,\"\ncontinued the Monster, addressing her, \"conduct your father into\nthe adjoining wardrobe, and choose anything which both of you think\nwill give pleasure to your brothers and sisters. You will find two\ntrunks; fill them. It is right that you should send them something of\nsufficient value to oblige them to remember you.\"\n\nIn spite of the liberality of the Monster, the approaching departure\nof her father sensibly affected Beauty, and caused her extreme\ngrief; however, she determined to obey the Beast, who quitted them,\nafter having said, as he had done on entering, \"Good-night, Beauty;\ngood-night, good man.\" When they were alone, the good man, embracing\nhis daughter, wept without ceasing. The idea of leaving her with the\nMonster was a most cruel trial to him. He repented having brought her\ninto that place. The gates were open; he wished to lead her away again,\nbut Beauty impressed upon him the danger and consequences of such a\nproceeding.\n\nThey entered the wardrobe which had been indicated to them; they were\nsurprised at the treasures it contained. It was filled with apparel so\nsuperb that a Queen could not wish for anything more beautiful, or in\nbetter taste. Never was a warehouse better filled.\n\nWhen Beauty had chosen the dresses she thought the most suitable, not\nto the present situation of the family, but proportioned to the riches\nand liberality of the Beast, who was the donor, she opened a press,\nthe door of which was of rock crystal, mounted in gold. Although such\na magnificent exterior prepared her to find it contain some rare and\nprecious treasures, she saw such a mass of jewels of all kinds, that\nher eyes could hardly support the brilliancy of them. Beauty, from a\nfeeling of obedience, took without hesitation, a prodigious quantity,\nwhich she divided as well as she could amongst the lots she had already\nmade.\n\nOn opening the last cabinet, which was no less than a cabinet filled\nwith pieces of gold, she changed her mind. \"I think,\" said she to\nher father, \"that it will be better to empty these trunks, and to\nfill them with coin, which you can give to your children according to\nyour pleasure. By this means you will not be obliged to confide your\nsecret to any one, and your riches will be possessed by you without\ndanger. The advantage that you would derive from the possession of\nthese jewels, although their value might be more considerable, would\nbe attended by inconvenience. In order to profit by them you would be\nforced to sell them, and to trust them to persons who would only look\non you with envious eyes. Your confidence in them might even prove\nfatal to you, whilst gold pieces of current coin will place you,\"\ncontinued she, \"beyond the reach of any misfortune, by giving you the\nmeans of acquiring land and houses, and purchasing rich furniture,\nornaments, and precious stones.\"\n\nThe father approved her forethought. But wishing to take for his\ndaughters some dresses and ornaments, in order to make room for them\nas well as the gold, he took out of the trunks what he had selected\nfor his own use. The great quantity of coin which he put in did not\nfill them, however. They were composed of folds which stretched at\npleasure. He found room for the jewels which he had displaced, and,\nin fact, these trunks contained more than he could even wish for. \"So\nmuch money,\" said he to his daughter, \"will place me in a position to\nsell my jewels at my own convenience. Following thy counsel, I will\nhide my wealth from the world, and even from my children. If they knew\nme to be as rich as I shall be, they would torment me to abandon my\ncountry life, which, however, is the sole one wherein I have found\nhappiness, and not experienced the perfidy of false friends, with whom\nthe world is filled.\" But the trunks were so immensely heavy, that an\nelephant would have sunk under their weight, and the hope which he had\nbegun to cherish appeared to him a dream, and nothing more. \"The Beast\nmocks us,\" said he, \"and feigns to give me wealth, which he makes it\nimpossible for me to carry away.\"\n\n\"Suspend your judgment,\" replied Beauty; \"you have not provoked his\nliberality by any indiscreet request nor by any greedy or interested\nlooks. Raillery would be without point. I think, as the Monster has\nbestowed it on you, that he will certainly find the means of allowing\nyou to enjoy it. We have only to close the trunks, and leave them here.\nNo doubt he knows by what coach to send them.\"\n\nNothing could be more prudent than this advice. The good man,\nconformably to it, re-entered the saloon with his daughter. Seated\ntogether on the sofa, they saw the breakfast instantly served. The\nfather ate with more appetite than he had done the preceding night.\nThat which had come to pass had diminished his despair and revived his\nconfidence. He would have departed without concern if the Beast had\nnot had the cruelty to make him understand that he must not dream of\nseeing his palace again, and that he must wish his daughter an eternal\nfarewell. There is no evil but death without remedy. The good man was\nnot completely stunned by this order. He flattered himself that it\nwould not be irrevocable, and this hope prepared him to quit his host\nwith tolerable satisfaction. Beauty was not so well satisfied. Little\npersuaded that a happy future was prepared for her, she feared that the\nrich presents with which the Monster loaded her family was but the\nprice of her life, and that he would devour her immediately that he\nshould be alone with her, or at least that a perpetual prison would be\nher fate, and that her only companion would be this frightful Monster.\n\nThis reflection plunged her into a profound reverie, but a second\nstroke of the bell warned them that it was time to separate. They\ndescended into the court, where the father found two horses, the one\nloaded with the two trunks, and the other destined for himself. The\nlatter, covered with a good cloak, and the saddle having two bags\nattached to it full of refreshments, was the same which he had ridden\nbefore. So much attention on the part of the Beast again supplied them\nwith subject of conversation; but the horses, neighing and stamping\nwith their hoofs, made known to them that it was time to part.\n\nThe merchant, afraid of irritating the Beast by his delay, bade his\ndaughter an eternal farewell. The two horses set off faster than the\nwind, and Beauty instantly lost sight of them. She mounted in tears to\nthe chamber which was appropriated to her, where for some time she was\nlost in sad reflections.\n\nAt length, being overcome with sleep, she felt a wish to seek repose,\nwhich, during a month past, she had not enjoyed. Having nothing better\nto do, she was about to go to bed, when she perceived on the table a\nservice of chocolate prepared. She took it, half asleep, and her eyes\nalmost immediately closed. She fell into a quiet slumber, which since\nthe moment she had received the fatal rose had been unknown to her.\n\nDuring her sleep, she dreamt that she was on the bank of a canal, a\nlong way off, the two sides of which were ornamented with two rows of\norange trees and flowering myrtles of immense size, where, engrossed\nwith her sad situation, she lamented the misfortune which condemned her\nto pass her days in this place without hope of ever leaving it.\n\nA young man, beautiful as Cupid is painted, in a voice which touched\nher heart, then said--\"Do not, Beauty, believe thou wilt be as unhappy\nas it now appears to thee. It is in this place that thou wilt receive\nthe recompence which they have elsewhere unjustly denied thee. Let thy\npenetration assist thee to extricate me from the appearance which\ndisguises me. Judge in seeing me if my company is contemptible, and\nought not to be preferred to a family unworthy of thee. Wish, and all\nthy desires shall be fulfilled. I love thee tenderly; thou alone canst\nbestow happiness on me by being happy thyself. Never deny me this.\nExcelling all other women as far in the qualities of thy mind as thou\nexcellest them in beauty, we shall be perfectly happy together.\"\n\nThis charming apparition then kneeling at her feet, made her the most\nflattering promises in the most tender language. He pressed her in the\nwarmest terms to consent to his happiness, and assured her that she\nshould be entirely her own mistress.\n\n\"What can I do?\" said she to him with eagerness.\n\n\"Follow the first impulse of gratitude,\" said he. \"Judge not by thine\neyes, and, above all, abandon me not, but release me from the terrible\ntorment which I endure.\"\n\nAfter this first dream, she fancied she was in a magnificent cabinet\nwith a lady, whose majestic mien and surprising beauty created in\nher heart a feeling of profound respect. This lady said to her in an\naffectionate tone--\"Charming Beauty, regret not that thou hast left;\na more illustrious fate awaits thee; but if thou wouldst deserve it,\nbeware of allowing thyself to be prejudiced by appearances.\" Her sleep\nlasted more than five hours, during which time she saw the young man in\na hundred different places, and under a hundred different circumstances.\n\nSometimes he offered her a fine entertainment; sometimes he made the\nmost tender protestations to her. How pleasant her sleep was! She would\nhave wished to prolong it, but her eyes, open to the light, could not\nbe induced to close again, and Beauty believed she had only had an\nagreeable dream.\n\nA clock struck twelve, repeating twelve times her own name, which\nobliged her to rise. She then saw a toilet-table covered with\neverything necessary for a lady. After having dressed herself with a\nfeeling of pleasure of which she did not imagine the cause, she passed\ninto the saloon, where her dinner was served.\n\nWhen one eats alone, a repast is very soon over. On returning to her\nchamber, she threw herself on the sofa; the young man of whom she\nhad dreamt again presented himself to her thoughts. \"'I can make thy\nhappiness,' were his words. Probably this horrible Beast, who appears\nto command all here, keeps him in prison. How can he be extricated?\nThey repeated to me that I was not to be deceived by appearances. I\nunderstand nothing; but how foolish I am! I amuse myself by seeking for\nreasons to explain an illusion formed by sleep, and which my waking\nhas destroyed. I ought not to pay attention to it. I must only occupy\nmyself with my present fate, and seek such amusements as will prevent\nmy being overcome by melancholy.\"\n\nShortly afterwards she began to wander through the numerous apartments\nof the palace. She was enchanted with them, having never seen\nanything so beautiful. The first that she entered was a large cabinet\nof mirrors. She saw herself reflected on all sides. At length a\nbracelet, suspended to a girandole, caught her sight. She found on it\nthe portrait of the handsome Cavalier, just as she had seen him in\nher sleep. How was it she recognised him immediately? His features\nwere already too deeply impressed on her mind, and, perhaps, in her\nheart. With joyful haste she placed the bracelet on her arm, without\nreflecting whether this action was correct. From this cabinet, having\npassed into a gallery full of pictures, she there found the same\nportrait the size of life, which appeared to regard her with such\ntender attention, that she coloured, as if this picture had been the\nperson himself; or that she had had witnesses of her thoughts.\n\nContinuing her walk, she found herself in a saloon filled with\ndifferent kinds of instruments. Knowing how to play on almost all, she\ntried several, preferring the harpsichord to the others, because it was\na better accompaniment for the voice. From this saloon, she entered\nanother gallery, corresponding to that in which were the paintings.\nIt contained an immense library. She liked reading, and since her\nsojourn in the country she had been deprived of this pleasure. Her\nfather, by the confusion of his affairs, had found himself obliged to\nsell his books. Her great taste for study could easily be satisfied\nin this place, and would guarantee her against the dulness consequent\non solitude. The day passed before she could see everything. At the\napproach of night, all the apartments were illuminated by perfumed\nwax-lights, placed in lustres either transparent or of different\ncolours, and not of crystal, but made of diamonds and rubies.\n\nAt the usual hour, Beauty found her supper served, with the same\ndelicacy and neatness as before. No human figure presented itself to\nher view; her father had told her she would be alone. This solitude\nbegan no longer to trouble her, when the Beast made himself heard.\nNever having yet found herself alone with him, ignorant how this\ninterview would pass off, fearing even that he only came to devour her,\nis it any wonder that she trembled? But on the arrival of the Beast,\nwhose approach was by no means furious, her fears were dissipated.\nThis monstrous giant said, roughly, \"Good evening, Beauty.\" She\nreturned his salutation in the same terms, with a calm air, but a\nlittle tremulously. Amongst the different questions which the monster\nput to her, he asked how she amused herself? Beauty replied, \"I have\npassed the day in inspecting your palace, but it is so vast that I\nhave not had time to see all the apartments, and the beauties which it\ncontains.\" The Beast asked her, \"Do you think you can get accustomed to\nliving here?\" The girl replied, politely, that she could live without\ntrouble in so beautiful an abode. After an hour's conversation, Beauty\ndiscovered that the terrible tone of his voice was attributable only\nto the nature of the organ; and that the Beast was more inclined to\nstupidity than to ferocity. At length he asked her bluntly if she would\nmarry him. At this unexpected demand, her fears were renewed, and\nuttering a terrible shriek, she could not help exclaiming, \"O! Heavens,\nI am lost!\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" replied the Beast, quietly; \"but without frightening\nyourself, reply properly. Say precisely 'yes' or 'no.'\" Beauty replied,\ntrembling, \"No, Beast.\" \"Well, as you object, I will leave you,\"\nreplied the docile Monster. \"Good evening, Beauty.\" \"Good evening,\nBeast,\" said the frightened girl, with much satisfaction. Extremely\nrelieved by finding that she had no violence to fear, she lay quietly\ndown and went to sleep. Immediately her dear unknown returned to her\nmind. He appeared to say to her, tenderly, \"How overjoyed I am to see\nyou once more, dear Beauty, but what pain has your severity caused\nme? I know that I must expect to be unhappy for a long time.\" Her\nideas again changed, the young man appeared to offer her a crown, and\nsleep presented him to her in a hundred different manners. Sometimes\nhe seemed to be at her feet, sometimes abandoning himself to the\nmost excessive delight, at others shedding a torrent of tears, which\ntouched the depths of her soul. This mixture of joy and sadness lasted\nall the night. On waking, having her imagination full of this dear\nobject, she sought for his portrait, to compare it once more with her\nrecollections, and to see if she were not deceived. She ran to the\npicture gallery, where she recognised him still more perfectly. How\nlong she was admiring him! but feeling ashamed of her weakness, she\ncontented herself at length by looking at the miniature on her arm.\n\nAt length, to put an end to these tender reflections, she descended\ninto the garden, the fine weather seeming to invite her to a stroll.\nHer eyes were enchanted; they had never seen anything in nature so\nbeautiful. The groves were ornamented with admirable statues and\nnumberless fountains, which cooled the air, and shot up to such a\nheight that the eye could scarcely follow them.\n\nWhat surprised her most was, that she recognised the places wherein she\nhad dreamt she had seen the unknown. Especially at the sight of the\ngrand canal, bordered with orange and myrtle trees, she could not but\nthink of her vision, which appeared no longer a fiction. She thought to\nexplain the mystery by imagining that the Beast kept some one shut up\nin his palace. She resolved to be enlightened on the subject that same\nevening, and to question the Monster, from whom she expected a visit\nat the usual hour. She walked for the rest of the day, as long as her\nstrength permitted, without being able to see all.\n\nThe apartments which she had not been able to inspect the evening\nbefore, were no less worthy of her admiration than the others. Besides\nthe instruments and curiosities with which she was surrounded, she\nfound in another cabinet plenty to occupy her. It was filled with\npurses, and shuttles for knotting, scissors for cutting out, and fitted\nup for all sorts of ladies' work; in fact, everything was to be found\nthere.\n\nIn this gallery care had been taken to place a cage filled with rare\nbirds, all of which, on the arrival of Beauty, formed an admirable\nconcert. They came also and perched on her shoulders, and these loving\nlittle creatures vied with each other as to which should nestle closest\nto her. \"Amiable prisoners,\" said she, \"I think you charming, and I am\nvexed that you should be so far from my apartment, I should often like\nthe pleasure of hearing you sing.\"\n\nWhat was her surprise, when as she said these words, she opened a door\nand found herself in her own chamber, which she believed was very\ndistant from this gallery, having only arrived in it after turning\nand threading a labyrinth of apartments which composed this pavilion.\nA panel which had concealed from her the neighbourhood of the birds,\nopened into the gallery, and was very convenient, as it completely shut\nout the noise of them when quiet was desirable.\n\nBeauty, continuing her route, perceived another feathered group; these\nwere parrots of all kinds and of all colours. All at her approach began\nto chatter. One said, \"Good day\" to her; the other asked her for some\nbreakfast; one more gallant begged a kiss; several sang opera airs,\nothers declaimed verses composed by the best authors; and all exerted\nthemselves to entertain her. They were as gentle and as affectionate\nas the inhabitants of the aviary. Their presence was a real pleasure\nto her. She was delighted to find something she could talk with, for\nsilence was not agreeable to her. She put several questions to some of\nthem, who answered her like very intelligent creatures. She selected\none from amongst them as the most amusing. The others, jealous of this\npreference, complained sadly. She consoled them by some caresses, and\nthe permission to pay her a visit whenever they pleased. Not far from\nthis spot she saw a numerous troop of monkeys of all sizes, great and\nsmall, sapajous,[17] some with human faces, others with beards, blue,\ngreen, black, and crimson. They advanced to meet her at the door of\ntheir apartment, which she had by chance arrived at. They made her low\nbows, accompanied by countless capers, and testified, by action, how\nhighly sensible they were of the honour she had done them.\n\nTo celebrate her visit, they danced upon the tight-rope, and bounded\nabout with a skill and an agility beyond example. Beauty was much\npleased with the monkeys, but she was disappointed at not finding\nanything which could enlighten her respecting the handsome unknown.\nLosing all hope of doing so, and looking upon her dream as altogether\nan illusion, she did her best to drive the recollection of it from\nher mind; but her efforts were vain. She praised the monkeys, and,\ncaressing them, said she should like some of them to follow her and\nkeep her company. Instantly two tall young apes, in court dresses, who\nappeared to have been only waiting for her orders, advanced and placed\nthemselves with great gravity beside her. Two sprightly little monkeys\ntook up her train as her pages. A facetious baboon, dressed as a\nSpanish gentleman of the chamber, presented his paw to her, very neatly\ngloved, and accompanied by this singular cort\u00e8ge, Beauty proceeded\nto the supper table. During her meal the smaller birds whistled, in\nperfect tune, an accompaniment to the voices of the parrots, who sang\nthe finest and most fashionable airs.\n\nDuring the concert, the monkeys, who had taken upon themselves the\nright of attending upon Beauty, having in an instant settled their\nseveral ranks and duties, commenced their service, and waited on her in\nfull state, with all the attention and respect that officers of a royal\nhousehold are accustomed to pay to queens.\n\nOn rising from table, another troop proceeded to entertain her with a\nnovel spectacle. They were a sort of company of actors, who played a\ntragedy in the most extraordinary fashion. These Signor Monkeys and\nSignora Apes, in stage dresses covered with embroidery, pearls, and\ndiamonds, executed all the actions suitable to the words of their\nparts, which were spoken with great distinctness and proper emphasis\nby the parrots; so cleverly, indeed, that it was necessary to be\nassured that these birds were concealed in the wig of one actor or\nunder the mantle of another, not to believe that these new-fashioned\ntragedians were speaking themselves. The drama appeared to have been\nwritten expressly for the actors, and Beauty was enchanted. At the end\nof the tragedy, one of the performers advanced and paid Beauty a very\nwell-turned compliment, and thanked her for the indulgence with which\nshe had listened to them. All then departed, except the monkeys of her\nhousehold, and those selected to keep her company.\n\nAfter supper, the Beast paid her his usual visit, and after the same\nquestions and the same answers, the conversation ended with a \"Good\nnight, Beauty.\" The Lady-Apes of the bed-chamber undressed their\nmistress, put her to bed, and took care to open the window of the\naviary, that the birds, by a warbling much softer than their songs\nby day, might induce slumber, and afford her the pleasure of again\nbeholding her lover. Several days passed without her experiencing any\nfeeling of dulness. Every moment brought with it fresh pleasures. The\nmonkeys, in three or four lessons, succeeded each one in teaching a\nparrot, who, acting as an interpreter, replied to Beauty's questions\nwith as much promptitude and accuracy as the monkeys themselves had\ndone by gestures. In fine, Beauty found nothing to complain of but the\nobligation of enduring every evening the presence of the Beast; but his\nvisits were short, and it was undoubtedly to him that she was indebted\nfor the enjoyment of all imaginable amusements.\n\nThe gentleness of the monster occasionally inspired Beauty with the\nidea of asking some explanation respecting the person she saw in\nher dreams; but sufficiently aware that he was in love with her,\nand fearing by such questioning to awaken his jealousy, she had the\nprudence to remain silent, and did not venture to satisfy her curiosity.\n\nBy degrees she had visited every apartment in this enchanted palace:\nbut one willingly returns to the inspection of things which are rare,\nsingular, and costly. Beauty turned her steps towards a great saloon,\nwhich she had only seen once before. This room had four windows in it\non each side. Two only were open, and admitted a glimmering light.\nBeauty wished for more light, but in lieu of obtaining any by opening\nanother window, she found it only looked into some enclosed space,\nwhich, although large, was obscure, and her eyes could distinguish\nnothing but a distant gleam, which appeared to reach them through the\nmedium of a very thick crape. Whilst pondering for what purpose this\nplace could have been designed, she was suddenly dazzled by a brilliant\nillumination. The curtain rose and discovered to Beauty a theatre,\nexceedingly well lighted. On the benches and in the boxes she beheld\nall that was most handsome and well made of either sex.[18] A sweet\nsymphony, which instantly commenced, terminated only to permit other\nactors than monkey and parrot performers to represent a very fine\ntragedy, which was followed by a little piece, quite equal in its own\nstyle to that which had preceded it. Beauty was fond of plays. It was\nthe only pleasure she had regretted when she left the city. Desiring\nto ascertain what sort of material the hangings of the box next to her\nwere made of, she found herself prevented doing so by a glass which\nseparated them, and thereby discovered that what she had seen were not\nthe actual objects, but a reflection of them by means of this crystal\nmirror, which thus conveyed to her sight all that was passing on the\nstage of the finest city in the world. It is a master-stroke in optics\nto be able to reflect from such a distance. She remained in her box\nsome time after the play was over, in order to see the fine company go\nout. The darkness that gradually ensued compelled her to think of other\nmatters. Satisfied with this discovery, of which she promised to avail\nherself often, she descended into the gardens. Prodigies were becoming\nfamiliar to her. She rejoiced to find they were all performed for her\nadvantage and amusement.\n\nAfter supper, the Beast came, as usual, to ask her what she had been\ndoing during the day. Beauty gave him an exact account of all her\namusements, and told him she had been to the play. \"Do you like it?\"\ninquired the dull creature. \"Wish for whatever you please, you shall\nhave it. You are very handsome.\" Beauty smiled to herself at the coarse\nmanner in which he paid her compliments; but what she did not smile at\nwas the usual question, and the words, \"Will you marry me?\" put an end\nto her good humour. She had only to answer \"No;\" but, nevertheless,\nhis docility during this last interview did not re-assure her. Beauty\nwas alarmed at it. \"What is to be the end of all this?\" she said to\nherself. \"The question he puts to me every time, 'Will I marry him?'\nproves that he persists in loving me: his bounty to me confirms it.\nBut though he does not insist on my compliance, nor show any signs\nof resentment at my refusal, who will be answerable to me that he\ndo not eventually lose his patience, and that my death will not be\nthe consequence?\" These reflections rendered her so thoughtful that\nit was almost daylight before she went to bed. The unknown, who but\nawaited that moment to appear, reproached her tenderly for her delay.\nHe found her melancholy, lost in thought, and inquired what could have\ndispleased her in such a place. She answered that nothing displeased\nher, except the Monster whom she saw every evening. She should have\nbecome accustomed to him, but he was in love with her, and this love\nmade her apprehensive of some violence. \"By the foolish compliments\nhe pays me,\" said Beauty to her lover, \"I find he desires to marry\nme. Would you advise me to consent? Alas! were he as charming as he\nis frightful, you have rendered my heart inaccessible to him and to\nall others; and I do not blush to own that I can love no one but you.\"\nSo sweet a confession could but flatter the unknown, yet he replied\nto her only by saying, \"Love him who loves you. Do not be misled by\nappearances, and release me from prison.\" These words, continually\nrepeated without any explanation, caused Beauty infinite distress.\n\"What would you that I should do?\" said she to him. \"I would restore\nyou to liberty at any price; but my desire is vain while you abstain\nfrom furnishing me with the means to put it in practice.\" The unknown\nmade her some answer, but of so confused a nature that she could not\ncomprehend it. A thousand extravagant fancies passed before her eyes.\nShe saw the Monster on a throne all blazing with jewels; he called to\nher and invited her to sit beside him. A moment afterwards, the unknown\ncompelled him precipitately to descend, and seated himself in his\nplace. The Beast regaining the advantage, the unknown disappeared in\nhis turn. He spoke to her from behind a black veil, which changed his\nvoice, and rendered it horrible.\n\nAll her sleep passed in this manner, and yet, notwithstanding the\nagitation it caused her, she felt it was too soon over, as her\nawakening deprived her of the sight of the object of her affections.\nAfter she had finished dressing, various sorts of work, books, and\nanimals occupied her attention until the hour when the play began. She\narrived just in time, but she was not at the same theatre. It was the\nopera,[19] and the performance commenced as soon as she was seated.\nThe spectacle was magnificent, and the spectators were not less so.\nThe mirrors represented to her distinctly the most minute details of\nthe dresses even of the people in the pit. Delighted to behold human\nforms and faces, many of which she recognised as those of persons she\nknew, it would have been a still greater pleasure to her could she have\nspoken to them, so that they could have heard her.\n\nMore gratified with this day's entertainment than with that of the\npreceding, the rest of it passed in the same way that each had done\nsince she had been in that palace. The Beast came in the evening,\nand after his visit she retired, as usual. The night resembled\nformer nights,--that is, it was passed in agreeable dreams. When\nshe awoke, she found the same number of domestics to wait upon her;\nbut after dinner her occupations were different. The day before, on\nopening another of the windows, she had found herself at the opera.\nTo diversify her amusements, she now opened a third window, which\ndisplayed to her all the pleasures of the Fair of St. Germain,[20] much\nmore brilliant then than it is at the present day. But as the hour had\nnot quite arrived when the best company resorted to it, she had leisure\nto observe and examine everything. She saw the rarest curiosities, the\nmost extraordinary productions of nature and works of art. The minutest\ntrifles were visible to her. The puppet-show was not unworthy of her\nattention,[21] whilst waiting for more refined entertainments. The\ncomic opera was in its splendour.[22] Beauty was very much delighted.\nAt the termination of the performances, she saw all the well-dressed\npeople visiting the tradesmen's shops. She recognised amongst the crowd\nseveral professional gamesters, who flocked to this place as their\nworkshop.\n\nShe observed persons who, having lost their money by the cleverness\nof those they played with, went out with less joyous countenances than\nthey exhibited as they entered. The prudent gamblers, who did not stake\ntheir whole fortunes on the hazard of a card, and who played to profit\nby their skill, could not conceal from Beauty their sleight of hand.\nShe longed to warn the victims of the tricks they were plundered by;\nbut at a distance from them of more than a thousand leagues it was not\nin her power to do so. She heard and saw everything distinctly, without\nits being possible for her to make herself heard or seen by others.\nThe reflections and echoes which conveyed to her all these sights\nand sounds had no returning power. Placed above the air and wind,\neverything came to her like a thought. The consideration of this fact\ndeterred her from making vain attempts.\n\nIt was past midnight before she thought it was time to retire. The\nneed of some refreshment might have hinted to her the lateness of the\nhour; but she had found in her box liqueurs and baskets filled with\neverything requisite for a collation. Her supper was light and of\nshort duration; she was in a hurry to go to bed. The Beast observed\nher impatience, and came merely to say good-night, that she might have\nmore time to sleep and the Unknown liberty to reappear. The following\ndays resembled each other. She found in her windows an inexhaustible\nsource of fresh entertainments. The first of the other three afforded\nher the pleasure of witnessing Italian comedy;[23] the second, a\nsight of the Tuileries, the resort of all the most distinguished and\nhandsome of both sexes. The last window was very far from being the\nleast agreeable. It enabled her to see everything of consequence that\nwas going on in the world. The scene was amusing and interesting in all\nsorts of ways. Sometimes it was the reception of a grand embassy, at\nothers the marriage of some illustrious personages, and occasionally\nsome exciting revolutions. She was at this window during the last\nrevolt of the Janizaries, and witnessed the whole of it to the very end.\n\nAt all times she was certain to find something here to entertain her.\nThe weariness she had felt at first in listening to the Beast had\nentirely departed. Her eyes had become accustomed to his ugliness. She\nwas prepared for his foolish questions, and if their conversations had\nlasted longer, perchance she would have not been displeased; but four\nor five sentences, always the same, uttered in a coarse manner, and\nproductive only of a \"Yes\" or \"No,\" were not much to her taste.\n\nAs the slightest desires of Beauty appeared to be anticipated, she\nbestowed more care upon her toilet, although certain that no one could\nsee her. But she owed this attention to herself, and it was a pleasure\nto her to dress herself in the habits of all the various nations on the\nface of the earth. She could do this the more easily, as her wardrobe\nfurnished her with everything she chose, and presented her every day\nwith some novelty. Contemplating her mirror in these various dresses,\nit revealed to her that she was to be admired in all lands; and her\nattendant animals, each according to their talent, repeated to her\nunceasingly the same fact--the monkeys by their actions, the parrots by\ntheir language, and the other birds by their songs.\n\nSo delightful a life ought to have perfectly contented her, but we\nweary of everything. The greatest happiness fades when it is continual,\nderived always from the same source, and we find ourselves exempted\nfrom fear and from hope. Beauty had experienced this. The remembrance\nof her family arose to trouble her in the midst of her prosperity. Her\nhappiness could not be perfect as long as she was denied the pleasure\nof informing her relations of it.\n\nAs she had become more familiar with the Beast, either from the\nhabit of seeing him or from the gentleness which she had discovered\nin his nature, she thought she might venture to ask him a question.\nShe did not take this liberty, however, until she had obtained from\nhim a promise that he would not be angry. The question she put to\nhim was, \"Were they the only two persons in that castle?\" \"Yes, I\nprotest to you,\" replied the Beast, in a rather excited tone; \"and I\nassure you that you and I, the monkeys, and the other animals, are the\nonly breathing creatures in this place.\" The Beast said no more, and\ndeparted more abruptly than usual.\n\nBeauty had asked this question only with a view of ascertaining whether\nher lover was not confined in the palace. She would have wished to see\nand speak with him. It was a happiness she would have purchased at the\nprice of her own liberty and of all the pleasures by which she was\nsurrounded. That charming youth existing only in her imagination, she\nnow looked upon this palace as a prison which would be one day her tomb.\n\nThese melancholy ideas crowded also upon her mind at night. She dreamed\nshe was on the banks of a great canal; she was weeping, when her dear\nUnknown, alarmed at her sad state, said to her, pressing her hand\ntenderly between his own, \"What is the matter, my beloved Beauty?\nWho can have offended you, and what can possibly have disturbed your\ntranquillity? By the love I bear you, I conjure you to explain the\ncause of your distress. Nothing shall be refused to you. You are sole\nsovereign here--everything is at your command. Whence arises the sorrow\nthat overpowers you? Is it the sight of the Beast that afflicts you?\nYou must be relieved from it!\" At these words Beauty imagined she saw\nthe Unknown draw a dagger, and prepare to plunge it in the throat\nof the Monster, who made no attempt to defend himself, but, on the\ncontrary, offered his neck to the blow with a submission and a calmness\nwhich caused the beautiful dreamer to fear the Unknown would accomplish\nhis purpose before she could endeavour to prevent him, notwithstanding\nshe had instantly risen to protect the Beast. The instant she saw\nher efforts likely to be anticipated, she exclaimed, with all her\nmight, \"Hold, barbarian! Harm not my benefactor, or else kill me!\"\nThe Unknown, who continued striking at the Beast, notwithstanding the\nshrieks of Beauty, said to her, angrily, \"You love me, then, no longer,\nsince you take the part of this Monster, who is an obstacle to my\nhappiness!\" \"You are ungrateful,\" she replied, still struggling with\nhim; \"I love you more than my life, and I would lose it sooner than\ncease to love you. You are all the world to me, and I would not do you\nthe injustice to compare you with any other treasure it possesses. I\nwould, without a sigh, abandon all it could offer me, to follow you\ninto the wildest desert. But this tender affection does not stifle my\ngratitude. I owe everything to the Beast. He anticipates all my wishes:\nit is to him I am indebted for the joy of knowing you, and I would die\nsooner than endure seeing you do him the slightest injury.\"\n\nAfter several similar struggles the objects vanished, and Beauty\nfancied she saw the lady who had appeared to her some nights before,\nand who said to her, \"Courage, Beauty; be a model of female generosity;\nshow thyself to be as wise as thou art charming; do not hesitate to\nsacrifice thy inclination to thy duty. Thou takest the true path\nto happiness. Thou wilt be blest, provided thou art not misled by\ndeceitful appearances.\"\n\nWhen Beauty awoke she pondered on this mysterious vision, but it still\nremained an enigma to her. Her desire to see her father superseded,\nduring the day, the anxiety caused by these dreams of the Monster and\nthe Unknown. Thus, neither tranquil at night nor contented by day,\nalthough surrounded by the greatest luxuries, the only distraction she\ncould find was in the theatre. She went to the Italians, but after\nthe first scene she quitted that performance for the Opera, which she\nleft almost as quickly. Her melancholy followed her everywhere. She\nfrequently opened each of the six windows as many times without finding\none minute's respite from her cares. Days and nights of equal and\nunceasing agitation began seriously to affect her appearance and her\nhealth.\n\nShe took great pains to conceal from the Beast the sorrow which preyed\nupon her; and the Monster, who had frequently surprised her with the\ntears in her eyes, upon hearing her say that she was only suffering\nfrom a headache, pressed his inquiries no further. One evening,\nhowever, her sobs having betrayed her, and feeling it impossible longer\nto dissimulate, she acknowledged to the Beast, who begged to know what\nhad caused her afflictions, that she was yearning to see her family.\nAt this declaration the Beast sank down without power to sustain\nhimself, and heaving a deep sigh, or rather uttering a howl that might\nhave frightened any one to death, he replied, \"How, Beauty! would you,\nthen, abandon an unfortunate Beast? Could I have imagined you possessed\nso little gratitude? What have I left undone to make you happy? Should\nnot the attentions I have paid you preserve me from your hatred? Unjust\nas you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of\nyour sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the\nflocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence.\nIt is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you\nanxious to depart.\"\n\n\"No, Beast,\" replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; \"I do not hate\nyou, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I\ncannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit\nme to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return\nwith pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you\nanother favour.\"\n\nWhile she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown\nback, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He\nanswered her in these words: \"I can refuse you nothing; but it will\nperhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your\napartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like\nfor yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent\nit, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late.\nReturn at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For\nyour journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of\nyour family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you\nare in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with\na firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast\nagain.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your\nfather early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty.\"\n\nAs soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all\nthe treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to\nbe full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these\npreparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so\nsoon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon\nher towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in\nher dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a\nbed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched\nat seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate\nhis profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her\nlover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, \"Can you ask me\nsuch a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure\ndooms me to death?\" \"Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown,\"\nreplied she, \"my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my\nfamily respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return\nimmediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah!\ncould I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have\npledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep\nit; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer\nmy departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I\nam sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not\npart. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you,\nand I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve.\"\n\"I cannot accede to your wishes,\" replied the Unknown, \"unless you\ndetermine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me\nto quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace\nhave no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond\nthe knowledge that you have grieved the Beast.\" \"You do not consider,\"\nrejoined Beauty, quickly, \"that he assured me he should die if I broke\nmy word to him.\" \"What matters it to you?\" retorted the lover; \"is it\nto be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the\nlife of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a\nloser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be\nthe horror of all nature?\" \"Ha!\" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily,\n\"know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster,\nwho is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not\nbe persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more\nhideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black\ningratitude.\"\n\nThe Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the\nMonster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of\nthem must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? \"I love\nyou only,\" she replied; \"but extreme as is my affection for you, it\ncannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed\nin so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of\nsuch a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why\nindulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea\nfreezes my blood. Let us change the conversation.\"\n\nShe set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could\nsay, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid\ncustoms of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She\nacknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have\nshrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of\nlong duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in\nhis promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the\nsound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains\nprecipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a\nstrange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as\nthat in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise\nhastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally\nstrange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it\nthe four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of\nherself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the\nBeast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she\nheard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms\nround his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters.\nThey stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family\nembraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her\nsisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy\nwas not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man\ndesired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the\ncircumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the\nstate of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for\nherself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had\nleft the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without\nthe least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could\nbest manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and\nwished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little\ncabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that\nhe had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting\nat his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed\nhad run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble\nof hiding his treasures. \"I assure thee,\" said the old man to his\ndaughter, \"that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not\npossessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure\nappeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to\nbelieve that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee.\nI feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more\ndurable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to\nbe in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to\nmy grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was\nsoon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed\nmy hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet,\nprecisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I\nhad forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein\nwe had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which\nafforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant\nattention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer\ndoubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself\nfor entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous\nMonster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in\nmy distress, I had mentally lavished upon him.\n\n\"Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented\nmyself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent\nthem, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards\npretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various\nways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I\nhave slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had\nsubjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for.\nOstentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the\nenvious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very\nwealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am\nabout to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides\nme. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought\nto me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their\nestablishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy\npresents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it,\nwe two will live together independently of them.\"\n\nBeauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he\ngave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his\noffers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact\nthat she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to\nlearn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining\nyears, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of\na duty which he acknowledged indispensable.\n\nBeauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since\nthey parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good\nman, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures,\nheaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater\nstill when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense\ntreasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty\nto dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his\ndaughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's\ngenerosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in\nthis Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he\ndeemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding\nhis ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to\ntake that step.\n\n\"Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone,\" said he to\nher. \"Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by\ngratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be\nhappy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but\nthese dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed\nto chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy\nrepugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou\nwilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to\nme that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union\nwith him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband\nthan one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls\nare compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast,\nwho is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions.\"\n\nBeauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to\nmarry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he\nwas gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. \"How can I determine,\"\nreplied she to her father, \"to take a husband with whom I can have no\nsympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms\nof his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and\nrelieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being\nsometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions\nrespecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night,\nBeauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred\ntimes a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would\nrather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow,\ndisgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except\nthe consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and\npresenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that\nenough to inspire one with affection?\"\n\nThe father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but\nobserving so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be\nas stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good\ntaste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to\nhis thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the\nconsideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined\nto listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance\nthrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these\ntwo admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself\nwas fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between\nthem. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her\nrepugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned\nher not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to\nimply that this youth would only make her miserable.\n\nIt is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the\npower to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her\nwithout having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced,\ninvited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her\nfather once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire\nto rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her\nwith the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved\nUnknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened\npulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that\npleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her\nthe scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear\nUnknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she\nso ardently desired.\n\nShe awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids\nfluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet\nthoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in\nthe arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless\nanxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast,\nand the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of\nsatisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this\nweariness.\n\nHer father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his\ncountry house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his\ndaughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained\nfor him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle\nwho visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter\nhad returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and\nwere each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty.\nThe peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent\npleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the\nthousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take\npossession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster\nhad combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than\nshe was when her father first parted from her.\n\nShe was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters,\nwithout condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest\npretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her\ncharms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible\nto the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing\nthat could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous\nobjects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she\ncould not escape the jealousy of her sisters.\n\nThe inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented\nevery day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their\ncourt to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games\nwhich took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to\nthe mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling\nto refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so\nflattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring\nthat she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to\nthe victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple\nguerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their\nturn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets,\npresents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she\nwould not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her\nby the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her\nsisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant.\nBestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure\nof giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well\nas the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought\nonly to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more\nprecious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped\nupon them by the others.\n\nThe amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly\ninferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained\nher sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At\nthe same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she\ntenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in\na hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection,\nnor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very\nfond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her\nagreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when\nshe slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest\nlanguage; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers\nof her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing\nillusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such\nconquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference\nbetween their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of\nher charming Unknown.\n\nTheir assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference;\nbut Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were\nobstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to\nher the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make\nthem clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she\nendeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She\ntold him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at\nthe marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister,\nand that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately.\nBeauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any\ncharms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain,\nthe threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing,\nin short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her\nobject, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had\nthe mortification to find equally infatuated.\n\nTo complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a\nrival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and\nwhilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she\nhad the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be\nthe cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on\nfighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to\ndetermine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated.\n\nHer father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave\nof her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor\nthe prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could\nextort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as\nshe could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she\ndetermined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when\nnight arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and\nher gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to\nthe other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less\nthan a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the\nBeast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full\nof brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued\nhorrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his\nassistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the\nground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death,\nand having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She\nthen saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who\nsaid to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she\nhesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her\nword to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time\nhad expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast;\nthat the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred\nof her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of\nthe Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified\nby this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast,\nawoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she\ncould no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various\neffects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that\nthey would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair,\nswore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest\nornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her\ndeparture, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting\nto possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her\nthat if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done,\nthey should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with\ntheir feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time\nbeen on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they\nendeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their\nhearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought\nonly of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she\nwas under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent\nto her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason.\nAll of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at\nher father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first\nconveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back\nagain, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it.\n\nHer sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a\nsentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's\ndeparture, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to\ndelay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty\ncalled her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the\nexistence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her\nfamily, and of all those who were interested in her destiny.\n\nShe assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her\ndeparture, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the\nnext morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would\nbe fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted\nPalace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She\nslept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber,\nstriking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that\nher wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to\nrise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager\nto serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her\nreturn, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence.\n\nThe day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that\nPalace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her\nimpatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could\nto him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by\nanother desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet\nconversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived\nof during the two months she had passed with her family, and which\nshe could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the\nUnknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections.\nOne moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a\nlover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the\nnext she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had\nno existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought\nto prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection\nof the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was\ninvariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared\nit was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and\ndestroyed by light of day.\n\nThus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the\nBeast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment,\nshe went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor.\nShutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the\nOpera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally\nunable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness,\nwit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and\nprevented her taking pleasure in anything.\n\nThe gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to\nentertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the\nparrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient\nfor the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected\nto hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the\nappearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she\ntried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and\nfear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended\ninto the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had\nfound the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She\ncalled him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three\nhours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon\na garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned\nthe place.\n\n  [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.]\n\nShe saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving\nit. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as\nthey had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even\nto discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for\nnot having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his\ndeath (for she feared her too long absence had occasioned it), heaped\nupon herself the keenest and most bitter reproaches. In the midst of\nher miserable reflections she perceived that she was seated in that\nvery avenue in which, during the last night she had passed under her\nfather's roof, she had dreamed she saw the Beast expiring in some\nstrange cavern. Convinced that chance had not conducted her to this\nspot, she rose and hurried towards the thicket, which she found was not\nimpenetrable. She discovered another hollow, which appeared to be that\nshe had seen in her dream. As the moon gave but a feeble light, the\nmonkey pages immediately appeared with a sufficient number of torches\nto illuminate the chasm, and to reveal to her the Beast stretched upon\nthe earth, as she thought, asleep. Far from being alarmed at his sight,\nBeauty was delighted, and, approaching him boldly, placed her hand\nupon his head, and called to him several times; but finding him cold\nand motionless, she no longer doubted he was dead, and consequently\ngave utterance to the most mournful shrieks and the most affecting\nexclamations.\n\nThe assurance of his death, however, did not prevent her from making\nevery effort to recall him to life. On placing her hand on his heart\nshe felt, to her great joy, that it still beat. Without further\ndelay, Beauty ran out of the cave to the basin of a fountain, where,\ntaking up some water in her joined hands, she hastened back with it,\nand sprinkled it upon him; but as she could bring very little at a\ntime, and spilt some of it before she could return to the Beast, her\nassistance had been but meagre if the monkey courtiers had not flown\nto the Palace, and returned with such speed that in a moment she was\nfurnished with a vase for water, as well as with proper restoratives.\nShe caused him to smell them and swallow them, and they produced so\nexcellent an effect that he soon began to move and show some kind of\nconsciousness. She cheered him with her voice and caressed him as he\nrecovered. \"What anxiety have you caused me?\" said she to him, kindly;\n\"I knew not how much I loved you. The fear of losing you has proved to\nme that I was attached to you by stronger ties than those of gratitude.\nI vow to you that I had determined to die if I had failed in restoring\nyou to life.\" At these tender words the Beast, feeling perfectly\nrevived, replied, in a voice which was still feeble, \"It is very kind\nof you, Beauty, to love so ugly a monster, but you do well. I love you\nbetter than my life. I thought you would never return: it would have\nkilled me. Since you love me I will live. Retire to rest, and assure\nyourself that you will be as happy as your good heart renders you\nworthy to be.\"\n\nBeauty had never before heard so long a speech from the Beast. It\nwas not very eloquent, but it pleased, from its gentleness and the\nsincerity observable in it. She had expected to be scolded, or at\nleast to have been reproached. She had from this moment a better\nopinion of his disposition. No longer thinking him so stupid, she even\nconsidered his short answers a proof of his prudence, and, more and\nmore prepossessed in his favour, she retired to her apartment, her mind\noccupied with the most flattering ideas. Extremely fatigued, she found\nthere all the refreshments she needed. Her heavy eyelids promised her\na sweet slumber. Asleep almost as soon as her head was on her pillow,\nher dear Unknown failed not to present himself immediately. What\ntender words did he not utter to express the pleasure he experienced\nat seeing her again? He assured her that she would be happy; that it\nonly remained to her to follow the impulse of her good heart. Beauty\nasked him if her happiness was to arise from her marriage with the\nBeast. The Unknown replied that it was the only means of securing it.\nShe felt somewhat annoyed at this. She thought it even extraordinary\nthat her lover should advise her to make her rival happy. After this\nfirst dream, she thought she saw the Beast dead at her feet. An instant\nafterwards the Unknown re-appeared, and disappeared again as instantly,\nto give place to the Beast. But what she observed most distinctly was\nthe Lady, who seemed to say to her, \"I am pleased with thee. Continue\nto follow the dictates of reason, and trouble thyself about naught.\nI undertake the task of rendering thee happy.\" Beauty, although\nasleep, appeared to acknowledge her partiality to the Unknown and her\nrepugnance to the Monster, whom she could not consider loveable. The\nLady smiled at her objections, and advised her not to make herself\nuneasy about her affection for the Unknown, for that the emotions she\nfelt were not incompatible with the resolution she had formed to do her\nduty; that she might follow her inclinations without resistance, and\nthat her happiness would be perfected by espousing the Beast.\n\nThis dream, which only ended with her sleep, furnished her with an\ninexhaustible source of reflection. In this vision, as in those which\nhad preceded it, she found more coherence than is usually displayed\nin dreams, and she therefore determined to consent to this strange\nunion. But the image of the Unknown rose unceasingly to trouble her.\nIt was the sole obstacle, but not a slight one. Still uncertain as\nto the course she ought to take, she went to the Opera, but without\nterminating her embarrassment. At the end of the performance she sat\ndown to supper. The arrival of the Beast was alone capable of deciding\nher.\n\nFar from reproaching her for her long absence, the Monster, as if\nthe pleasure of seeing her had made him forget his past distresses,\nappeared, on entering Beauty's apartment, to have no other anxiety\nbut that of ascertaining if she had been much amused, if she had been\nwell received, and if her health had been good. She answered these\nquestions, and added politely that she had paid dearly for all the\npleasures his care had enabled her to enjoy, by the cruel pain she had\nendured on finding him in so sad a state on her return.\n\nThe Beast briefly thanked her, and then being about to take his leave,\nasked her, as usual, if she would marry him. Beauty was silent for a\nshort time, but at last making up her mind, she said to him, trembling,\n\"Yes, Beast, I am willing, if you will pledge me your faith, to give\nyou mine.\" \"I do,\" replied the Beast, \"and I promise you never to\nhave any wife but you.\" \"Then,\" rejoined Beauty, \"I accept you for my\nhusband, and swear to be a fond and faithful wife to you.\"\n\nShe had scarcely uttered these words when a discharge of artillery was\nheard, and that she might not doubt it being a signal of rejoicing, she\nsaw from her windows the sky all in a blaze with the light of twenty\nthousand fireworks, which continued rising for three hours. They formed\ntrue-lovers' knots, while on elegant escutcheons appeared Beauty's\ninitials, and beneath them, in well-defined letters, \"Long live Beauty\nand her Husband.\" After this display had terminated, the Beast took his\ndeparture, and Beauty retired to rest. No sooner was she asleep than\nher dear Unknown paid her his usual visit. He was more richly attired\nthan she had ever seen him. \"How deeply am I obliged to you, charming\nBeauty,\" said he. \"You have released me from the frightful prison in\nwhich I have groaned for so long a time. Your marriage with the Beast\nwill restore a king to his subjects, a son to his mother, and life to a\nwhole kingdom. We shall all be happy.\"\n\nBeauty, at these words, felt bitterly annoyed, perceiving that the\nUnknown, far from evincing the despair such an engagement as she had\nentered into should have caused him, gazed on her with eyes sparkling\nwith extreme delight. She was about to express her discontent to him,\nwhen the Lady, in her turn, appeared in her dream.\n\n\"Behold thee victorious,\" said she. \"We owe everything to thee, Beauty.\nThou hast suffered gratitude to triumph over every other feeling. None\nbut thou would have had the courage to keep their word at the expense\nof their inclination, nor to have perilled their life to have saved\nthat of their father. In return for this, there are none who can ever\nhope to enjoy such happiness as thy virtue has won for thee. Thou\nknowest at present little, but the rising sun shall tell thee more.\"\nWhen the Lady had disappeared, Beauty again saw the unknown youth, but\nstretched on the earth as dead. All the night passed in such dreams;\nbut they had become familiar to her, and did not prevent her from\nsleeping long and soundly. It was broad daylight when she awoke. The\nsun streamed into her apartment with more brilliancy than usual: her\nmonkeys had not closed the shutters. Believing the sight that met her\neyes but a continuation of her dreams, and that she was sleeping still,\nher joy and surprise were extreme at discovering that it was a reality,\nand that on a couch beside her lay, in a profound slumber, her beloved\nUnknown, looking a thousand times more handsome than he had done in\nher vision. To assure herself of the fact, she arose hastily and took\nfrom off her toilet-table the miniature she usually wore on her arm;\nbut she could not have been mistaken. She spoke to him, in the hope of\nawaking him from the trance into which he seemed to have been thrown by\nsome wonderful power. Not stirring at her voice, she shook him by the\narm. This effort was equally ineffectual, and only served to convince\nher that he was under the influence of enchantment, and that she must\nawait the end of the charm, which it was reasonable to suppose had an\nappointed period.\n\nHow delighted was she to find herself betrothed to him who alone had\ncaused her to hesitate, and to find that she had done from duty that\nwhich she would have done from inclination. She no longer doubted the\npromise of happiness which had been made to her in her dreams. She\nnow knew that the Lady had truly assured her that her love for the\nUnknown was not incompatible with the affection she entertained for the\nBeast, seeing that they were one and the same person. In the meanwhile,\nhowever, her husband never woke. After a slight meal she endeavoured to\npass away the time in her usual occupations, but they appeared to her\ninsipid. As she could not resolve to leave her apartments, nor bear to\nsit idle, she took up some music, and began to sing. Her birds hearing\nher, joined their voices to hers, and made a concert, the more charming\nto her as she expected every moment it would be interrupted by the\nawakening of her husband, for she flattered herself she could dissolve\nthe spell by the harmony of her voice. The spell was soon broken, but\nnot by the means she imagined. She heard the sound of a chariot rolling\nbeneath the windows of her apartment, and the voices of several persons\napproaching. At the same moment the monkey Captain of the Guard, by the\nbeak of his parrot Interpreter, announced the visit of some ladies.\nBeauty, from her windows, beheld the chariot that brought them. It was\nof an entirely novel description, and of matchless beauty. Four white\nstags, with horns and hoofs of gold, superbly caparisoned, drew this\nequipage, the singularity of which increased Beauty's desire to know\nwho were the owners of it.\n\nBy the noise, which became louder, she was aware that the ladies had\nnearly reached the ante-chamber. She considered it right to advance\nand receive them. She recognised in one of them the Lady she had been\naccustomed to behold in her dreams. The other was not less beautiful.\nHer high and distinguished bearing sufficiently indicated that she was\nan illustrious personage. She was no longer in the bloom of youth,\nbut her air was so majestic that Beauty was uncertain to which of the\ntwo strangers she ought first to address herself. She was still under\nthis embarrassment, when the one with whose features she was already\nfamiliar, and who appeared to exercise some sort of superiority over\nthe other, turning to her companion, said, \"Well, Queen, what think you\nof this beautiful girl? You owe to her the restoration of your son to\nlife, for you must admit that the miserable circumstances under which\nhe existed could not be called living. Without her, you would never\nagain have beheld this Prince. He must have remained in the horrible\nshape to which he had been transformed, had he not found in the world\none only person who possessed virtue and courage equal to her beauty.\nI think you will behold with pleasure the son she has restored to you\nbecome her husband. They love each other, and nothing is wanting to\ntheir perfect happiness but your consent. Will you refuse to bestow it\non them?\" The Queen, at these words, embracing Beauty affectionately,\nexclaimed, \"Far from refusing my consent, their union will afford\nme the greatest felicity! Charming and virtuous child, to whom I am\nunder so many obligations, tell me who you are, and the names of the\nsovereigns who are so happy as to have given birth to so perfect a\nPrincess?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied Beauty, modestly, \"it is long since I had a mother; my\nfather is a merchant more distinguished in the world for his probity\nand his misfortunes than for his birth.\" At this frank declaration, the\nastonished Queen recoiled a pace or two, and said, \"What! you are only\na merchant's daughter? Ah, great Fairy!\" she added, casting a mortified\nlook on her companion, and then remained silent; but her manner\nsufficiently expressed her thoughts, and her disappointment was legible\nin her eyes.\n\n\"It appears to me,\" said the Fairy, haughtily, \"that you are\ndiscontented with my choice. You regard with contempt the condition of\nthis young person, and yet she was the only being in the world who was\ncapable of executing my project, and who could make your son happy.\"\n\"I am very grateful to her for what she has done,\" replied the Queen;\n\"but, powerful spirit,\" she continued, \"I cannot refrain from pointing\nout to you the incongruous mixture of that noblest blood in all the\nworld which runs in my son's veins with that of the obscure race from\nwhich the person has sprung to whom you would unite him. I confess I am\nlittle gratified by the supposed happiness of the Prince, if it must be\npurchased by an alliance so degrading to us, and so unworthy of him.\nIs it impossible to find in the world a maiden whose birth is equal\nto her virtue? I know many excellent princesses by name; why am I not\npermitted to hope that I may see him the possessor of one of those?\"\n\nAt this moment the handsome Unknown appeared. The arrival of his mother\nand the Fairy had aroused him, and the noise they had made was more\neffective than all the efforts of Beauty; such being the nature of the\nspell. The Queen held him a long time in her arms, without speaking a\nword. She found again a son whose fine qualities rendered him worthy of\nall her affection. What joy for the Prince to see himself released from\na horrible form, and a stupidity more painful to him because it was\naffected and had not obscured his reason. He had recovered the liberty\nto appear in his natural form by means of the object of his love, and\nthat reflection made it still more precious to him.\n\nAfter the first transports which nature inspired him with at the sight\nof his mother, the Prince hastened to pay those thanks to the Fairy\nwhich duty and gratitude prompted. He did so in the most respectful\nterms, but as briefly as possible, in order to be at liberty to turn\nhis attentions towards Beauty. He had already, by tender glances,\nexpressed to her his feelings, and was about to confirm with his lips,\nin the most touching language, what his eyes had spoken, when the Fairy\nstopped him, and bade him be the judge between her and his mother.\n\"Your mother,\" said she, \"condemns the engagement you have entered into\nwith Beauty. She considers that her birth is too much beneath yours.\nFor my part, I think that her virtues make up for that inequality. It\nis for you, Prince, to say with which of us your own feelings coincide;\nand that you may be under no restraint in declaring to us your real\nsentiments, I announce to you that you have full liberty of choice.\nAlthough you have pledged your word to this amiable person, you are\nfree to withdraw it. I will answer for her, that Beauty will release\nyou from your promise without the least hesitation, although, through\nher kindness, you have regained your natural form; and I assure you\nalso that her generosity will cause her to carry disinterestedness\nto the extent of leaving you at liberty to dispose of your hand in\nfavour of any person on whom the Queen may advise you to bestow\nit.--What say you, Beauty?\" pursued the Fairy, turning towards her;\n\"have I been mistaken in thus interpreting your sentiments? Would you\ndesire a husband who would become so with regret?\" \"Assuredly not,\nMadam,\" replied Beauty. \"The Prince is free. I renounce the honour\nof being his wife. When I accepted him, I believed I was taking pity\non something below humanity. I engaged myself to him only with the\nobject of conferring on him the most signal favour. Ambition had no\nplace in my thoughts. Therefore, great Fairy, I implore you to exact\nno sacrifice from the Queen, whom I cannot blame for the scruples she\nentertains under such circumstances.\" \"Well, Queen, what say you to\nthat?\" inquired the Fairy, in a disdainful and displeased tone. \"Do\nyou consider that princesses, who are so by the caprice of fortune,\nbetter deserve the high rank in which it has placed them than this\nyoung maiden? For my part, I think she should not be prejudiced by\nan origin from which she has elevated herself by her conduct.\" The\nQueen replied with some embarrassment, \"Beauty is incomparable! Her\nmerit is infinite; nothing can surpass it; but, madam, can we not find\nsome other mode of rewarding her? Is it not to be effected without\nsacrificing to her the hand of my son?\" Then turning to Beauty, she\ncontinued, \"Yes, I owe you more than I can pay. I put, therefore, no\nlimit to your desires. Ask boldly, I will grant you everything, with\nthat sole exception; but the difference will not be great to you.\nChoose a husband from amongst the nobles of my Court. However high in\nrank, he will have cause to bless his good fortune, and for your sake I\nwill place him so near the throne that your position will be scarcely\nless enviable.\"\n\n\"I thank you, Madam,\" replied Beauty; \"but I ask no reward from you. I\nam more than repaid by the pleasure of having broken the spell which\nhad deprived a great prince of his mother and of his kingdom. My\nhappiness would have been perfect if I had rendered this service to my\nown sovereign. All I desire is that the Fairy will deign to restore me\nto my father.\"\n\nThe Prince, who, by order of the Fairy, had been silent throughout this\nconversation, was no longer master of himself, and his respect for the\ncommands he had received, failed to restrain him. He flung himself at\nthe feet of the Fairy and of his mother, and implored them, in the\nstrongest terms, not to make him more miserable than he had been, by\nsending away Beauty, and depriving him of the happiness of being her\nhusband. At these words, Beauty, gazing on him with an air full of\ntenderness, but mingled with a noble pride, said, \"Prince, I cannot\nconceal from you my affection. Your disenchantment is a proof of it,\nand I should in vain endeavour to disguise my feelings. I confess\nwithout a blush, that I love you better than myself. Why should I\ndissimulate? We may disavow evil impulses; but mine are perfectly\ninnocent, and are authorised by the generous Fairy to whom we are both\nso much indebted. But if I could resolve to sacrifice my feelings when\nI thought it my duty to do so for the Beast, you must feel assured that\nI shall not falter on this occasion when it is no longer the interest\nof the Monster that is at stake, but your own. It is enough for me to\nknow who you are, and that I am to renounce the glory of being your\nwife. I will even venture to say, that if, yielding to your entreaties,\nthe Queen should grant the consent you ask, it would not alter the\ncase, for in my own reason, and even in my love, you would meet with\nan insurmountable obstacle. I repeat that I ask no favour but that of\nbeing allowed to return to the bosom of my family, where I shall for\never cherish the remembrance of your bounty and your affection.\"\n\n\"Generous Fairy!\" exclaimed the Prince, clasping her hands in\nsupplication, \"for mercy's sake, do not allow Beauty to depart! Make\nme, rather, again the Monster that I was, for then I shall be her\nhusband. She pledged her word to the Beast, and I prefer that happiness\nto all those she has restored me to, if I must purchase them so dearly!\"\n\nThe Fairy made no answer; she but looked steadily at the Queen, who was\nmoved by so much true affection, but whose pride remained unshaken. The\ndespair of her son affected her, yet she could not forget that Beauty\nwas the daughter of a merchant, and nothing more. She, notwithstanding,\nfeared the anger of the Fairy, whose manner and silence sufficiently\nevinced her indignation. Her confusion was extreme. Not having power\nto utter a word, she feared to see a fatal termination to a conference\nwhich had offended the protecting spirit. No one spoke for some\nminutes, but the Fairy at length broke the silence, and casting an\naffectionate look upon the lovers, she said to them, \"I find you\nworthy of each other. It would be a crime to part two such excellent\npersons. You shall not be separated, I promise you; and I have\nsufficient power to fulfil my promise.\" The Queen shuddered at these\nwords, and would have made some remonstrance, but the Fairy anticipated\nher by saying, \"For you, Queen, the little value you set upon virtue,\nunadorned by the vain titles which alone you respect, would justify me\nin heaping on you the bitterest reproaches. But I excuse your fault,\narising from pride of birth, and I will take no other vengeance beyond\ndoing this little violence to your prejudices, and for which you will\nnot be long without thanking me.\" Beauty, at these words, embraced\nthe knees of the Fairy, and exclaimed, \"Ah, do not expose me to the\nmisery of being told all my life that I am unworthy of the rank to\nwhich your bounty would elevate me. Reflect that this Prince, who now\nbelieves that his happiness consists in the possession of my hand may\nvery shortly perhaps be of the same opinion as the Queen.\" \"No, no,\nBeauty, fear nothing,\" rejoined the Fairy. \"The evils you anticipate\ncannot come to pass. I know a sure way of protecting you from them,\nand should the Prince be capable of despising you after marriage, he\nmust seek some other reason than the inequality of your condition.\nYour birth is not inferior to his own. Nay, the advantage is even\nconsiderably on your side, for the truth is,\" said she, sternly, to the\nQueen, \"that you behold your niece; and what must render her still more\nworthy of your respect is, that she is mine also, being the daughter of\nmy sister, who was not, like you, a slave to rank which is lustreless\nwithout virtue.\n\n\"That Fairy, knowing how to estimate true worth, did your brother, the\nKing of the Happy Island, the honour to marry him. I preserved this\nfair fruit of their union from the fury of a Fairy who desired to be\nher step-mother. From the moment of her birth I destined her to be the\nwife of your son. I desired, by concealing from you the result of my\ngood service, to give you an opportunity of showing your confidence in\nme. I had some reason to believe that it was greater than it appears to\nhave been. You might have relied upon me for watching over the destiny\nof the Prince. I had given you proofs enough of the interest I took\nin it, and you needed not to have been under any apprehension that I\nshould expose him to anything that would be disgraceful to himself or\nto you. I feel persuaded, Madam,\" continued she, with a smile which\nhad still something of bitterness in it, \"that you will not object to\nhonour us with your alliance.\"\n\nThe Queen, astonished and embarrassed, knew not what to answer. The\nonly way to atone for her fault was to confess it frankly, and evince\na sincere repentance. \"I am guilty, generous Fairy,\" said she. \"Your\nbounties should have satisfied me that you would not suffer my son to\nhave formed an alliance unworthy of him. But pardon, I beseech you, the\nprejudices of my rank, which urged that royal blood could not marry\none of humbler birth without degradation. I acknowledge that I deserve\nyou should punish me by giving to Beauty a mother-in-law more worthy\nof her; but you take too kind an interest in my son to render him the\nvictim of my error. As to you, dear Beauty,\" she continued, embracing\nher tenderly, \"you must not resent my resistance. It was caused by my\ndesire to marry my son to my niece, whom the Fairy had often assured me\nwas living, notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary. She had\ndrawn so charming a portrait of her, that without knowing you, I loved\nyou dearly enough to risk offending the Fairy, in order to preserve to\nyou the throne and the heart of my son.\" So saying, she recommenced her\ncaresses, which Beauty received with respect.\n\nThe Prince, on his part, enraptured at this agreeable intelligence,\nexpressed his delight in looks alone.\n\n\"Behold us all satisfied,\" said the Fairy; \"and now, to terminate this\nhappy adventure, we only need the consent of the royal father of the\nPrincess; but we shall shortly see him here.\" Beauty requested her to\npermit the person who had brought her up, and whom she had hitherto\nlooked upon as her father, to witness her felicity. \"I admire such\nconsideration,\" said the Fairy; \"it is worthy a noble mind, and as\nyou desire it, I undertake to inform him.\" Then taking the Queen by\nthe hand, she led her away, under the pretext of showing her over the\nenchanted Palace. It was to give the newly-betrothed pair the liberty\nof conversing with each other for the first time without restraint or\nthe aid of illusion. They would have followed, but she forbade them.\nThe happiness in store for them inspired each with equal delight. They\ncould not entertain the least doubt of their mutual affection.\n\nTheir conversation, confused and unconnected, their protestations a\nhundred times repeated, were to them more convincing proofs of love\nthan the most eloquent language could have afforded. After having\nexhausted all the expressions that passion suggests under such\ncircumstances to those that are truly in love, Beauty inquired of her\nlover by what misfortune he had been so cruelly transformed into a\nbeast. She requested him also to relate to her all the events of his\nlife preceding that shocking metamorphosis.\n\nThe Prince, whose recovery of his natural form had not lessened his\nanxiety to obey her, without more ado commenced his narrative in the\nfollowing words:--\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE BEAST.\n\nThe King, my father, died before I was born. The Queen would never have\nbeen consoled for his loss if her interest for the child she bore had\nnot struggled with her sorrow. My birth caused her extreme delight. The\nsweet task of rearing the fruit of the affection of so dearly-beloved\na husband was destined to dissipate her affliction. The care of my\neducation and the fear of losing me occupied her entirely. She was\nassisted in her object by a Fairy of her acquaintance, who showed the\ngreatest anxiety to preserve me from all kinds of accidents. The Queen\nfelt greatly obliged to her, but she was not pleased when the Fairy\nasked her to place me entirely in her hands. The Fairy had not the best\nof reputations--she was said to be capricious in her favours. People\nfeared more than they loved her; and even had my mother been perfectly\nconvinced of the goodness of her nature, she could not have resolved to\nlose sight of me.\n\nBy the advice, however, of prudent persons, and for fear of suffering\nfrom the fatal effects of the resentment of this vindictive Fairy,\nshe did not flatly refuse her. If voluntarily confided to her care\nthere was no reason to suppose she would do me any injury. Experience\nhad proved that she took pleasure in hurting those only by whom she\nconsidered herself offended. The Queen admitted this, and was only\nreluctant to forego the pleasure of gazing on me continually with a\nmother's eyes, which enabled her to discover charms in me I owed solely\nto her partiality.\n\nShe was still irresolute as to the course she should adopt, when a\npowerful neighbour imagined it would be an easy matter for him to seize\nupon the dominions of an infant governed by a woman. He invaded my\nkingdom with a formidable army. The Queen hastily raised one to oppose\nhim, and, with a courage beyond that of her sex, placed herself at the\nhead of her troops, and marched to defend our frontiers. It was then\nthat, being compelled to leave me, she could not avoid confiding to\nthe Fairy the care of my education. I was placed in her hands after\nshe had sworn by all she held most sacred that she would, without the\nleast hesitation, bring me back to the Court as soon as the war was\nover, which my mother calculated would not last more than a year at the\nutmost. Notwithstanding, however, all the advantages she gained over\nthe enemy, she found it impossible to return to the capital so soon as\nshe expected. To profit by her victory, after having driven the foe out\nof our dominions, she pursued him in his own.\n\nShe took entire provinces, gained battle after battle, and finally\nreduced the vanquished to sue for a degrading peace, which he obtained\nonly on the hardest conditions. After this glorious success, the Queen\nreturned triumphantly, and enjoyed in anticipation the pleasure of\nbeholding me once more; but having learned upon her march that her\nbase foe, in violation of the treaty, had surprised and massacred our\ngarrisons, and repossessed himself of nearly all the places he had\nbeen compelled to cede to us, she was obliged to retrace her steps.\nHonour prevailed over the affection which drew her towards me, and she\nresolved never to sheathe the sword till she had put it out of her\nenemy's power to perpetrate more treachery. The time employed in this\nsecond expedition was very considerable. She had flattered herself that\ntwo or three campaigns would suffice; but she had to contend with an\nadversary as cunning as he was false. He contrived to excite rebellion\nin some of our own provinces, and to corrupt entire battalions, which\nforced the Queen to remain in arms for fifteen years. She never thought\nof sending for me. She was always flattering herself that each month\nwould be the last she should be absent, and that she was on the point\nof seeing me again.\n\nIn the meanwhile, the Fairy, in accordance with her promise, had paid\nevery attention to my education. From the day she had taken me out\nof my kingdom, she had never left me, nor ceased to give me proof of\nthe interest she felt in all that concerned my health and amusement.\nI evinced by my respect for her how sensible I was of her kindness. I\nshowed her the same deference, the same attention that I should have\nshown to my mother, and gratitude inspired me with as much affection\nfor her.\n\nFor some time she appeared satisfied with my behaviour; but one day,\nwithout imparting to me the motive, she set out on a journey, from\nwhich she did not return for some years, and when she did return,\nstruck with the effect of her care of me, she conceived for me an\naffection differing from that of a mother. She had previously permitted\nme to call her by that name, but now she forbade me. I obeyed her\nwithout inquiring what were her reasons, or suspecting what she was\nabout to exact from me.\n\nI saw clearly that she was dissatisfied; but could I imagine why she\ncontinually complained of my ingratitude? I was the more surprised at\nher reproaches as I did not feel I deserved them. They were always\nfollowed or preceded by the tenderest caresses. I was not old enough to\ncomprehend her. She was compelled to explain herself. She did so one\nday when I evinced some sorrow, mingled with impatience, respecting the\ncontinued absence of the Queen. She reproached me for this, and on my\nassuring her that my affection for my mother in nowise interfered with\nthat I owed to herself, she replied that she was not jealous, although\nshe had done so much for me, and had resolved to do still more; but\nthat, to enable her to carry out her designs in my favour with greater\nfreedom, it was requisite, she added, that I should marry her; that she\ndid not desire to be loved by me as a mother, but as an admirer; that\nshe had no doubt of my gratitude to her for making this proposal, or of\nthe great joy with which I should accept it, and that, consequently,\nI had only to abandon myself to the delight with which the certainty\nof becoming the husband of a powerful fairy, who could protect me from\nall dangers, assure me an existence full of happiness, and cover me\nwith glory, must naturally awaken.\n\nI was sadly embarrassed by this proposition. I knew enough of the\nworld in my own country, to be aware that amongst the wedded portion\nof the community the happiest were those whose ages and characters\nassimilated, and that many were much to be pitied who, marrying under\nopposite circumstances, had found antipathies existing between them\nwhich were the source of constant misery.\n\nThe Fairy being old and of a haughty disposition, I could not flatter\nmyself that my lot would be so agreeable as she predicted. I was far\nfrom entertaining for her such feelings as one should for the woman\nwith whom we intend to pass our days; and besides, I was not inclined\nto enter into any such engagement at so early an age. My only desire\nwas to see the Queen again, and to signalize myself at the head of her\nforces. I sighed for liberty; that was the sole boon that would have\ngratified me, and the only one the Fairy would not grant.\n\nI had often implored her to allow me to share the perils to which I\nknew the Queen exposed herself for the protection of my interests,\nbut my prayers had hitherto been fruitless. Pressed to reply to the\nastounding declaration she had made to me, I, in some confusion,\nrecalled to her that she had often told me that I had no right to\ndispose of my hand without the commands of my mother, and in her\nabsence. \"That is exactly my opinion,\" she replied; \"I do not wish you\nto do otherwise; I am satisfied that you should refer the matter to the\nQueen.\"\n\nI have already informed you, beautiful Princess, that I had been unable\nto obtain from the Fairy permission to seek the Queen, my mother. The\ndesire she now had to receive her sanction, which she never doubted\nshe should obtain, obliged her to grant, even without my asking, that\nwhich she had always denied me; but it was on the condition, by no\nmeans agreeable to me, that she should accompany me. I did what I could\nto dissuade her, but found it impossible, and we set out together with\na numerous escort. We arrived upon the eve of a decisive action. The\nQueen had man\u0153uvred with such skill that the next day was certain\nto decide the fate of the enemy, who would have no resource if he lost\nthe battle. My presence created great pleasure in the camp, and gave\nadditional courage to our troops, who drew a favourable augury from my\narrival. The Queen was ready to die with joy; but this first transport\nof delight was succeeded by the greatest alarm. Whilst I exulted in the\nhope of acquiring glory, the Queen trembled at the danger to which I\nwas about to expose myself. Too generous to endeavour to prevent me,\nshe implored me by all her affection, to take as much care of myself\nas honour would permit, and entreated the Fairy not to abandon me on\nthat occasion. Her solicitations were unnecessary. The too susceptible\nFairy was as much alarmed as the Queen, for she possessed no spell\nwhich could protect me from the chances of war. However, by instantly\ninspiring me with the art of commanding an army, and the prudence\nrequisite for so important an office, she achieved much. The most\nexperienced captains were surprised at me. I remained master of the\nfield. The victory was complete. I had the happiness of saving the\nQueen's life, and of preventing her from being made prisoner of war.\nThe enemy was pursued with such vigour that he abandoned his camp, lost\nhis baggage, and more than three-fourths of his army, while the loss\non our side was inconsiderable. A slight wound which I had received\nwas the only advantage the foe could boast of; but the Queen, fearing\nthat if the war continued some more serious mischief might befal me, in\nopposition to the desire of the whole army, to which my presence had\nimparted fresh spirit, made peace on more advantageous terms than the\nvanquished had ventured to hope for.\n\nA short time afterwards we returned to our capital, which we entered\nin triumph. My occupation during the war, and the continual presence\nof my ancient adorer, had prevented me from informing the Queen of\nwhat had occurred. She was, therefore, completely taken by surprise\nwhen the Fairy told her, in so many words, that she had determined to\nmarry me immediately. This declaration was made in this very Palace,\nbut which was at that time not so superb as it is at present. It had\nbeen a country residence of the late King, which a thousand occupations\nhad prevented his embellishing. My mother, who cherished everything\nthat he had loved, had selected it in preference to any other as a\nplace of retirement after the fatigues of the war. At the avowal of the\nFairy, unable to control her first feelings, and unused to dissemble,\nshe exclaimed, \"Have you reflected, Madam, on the absurdity of the\narrangement you propose to me!\" In truth it was impossible to conceive\none more ridiculous. In addition to the almost decrepit old age of the\nFairy, she was horribly ugly. Nor was this the effect of time. If she\nhad been handsome in her youth, she might have preserved some portion\nof her beauty by the aid of her art; but naturally hideous, her power\ncould only invest her with the appearance of beauty for one day in each\nyear, and that day ended, she returned to her former state.\n\nThe Fairy was surprised at the exclamation of the Queen. Her self-love\nconcealed from her all that was actually horrible in her person, and\nshe calculated that her power sufficiently compensated for the loss\nof a few charms of her youth. \"What do you mean,\" said she to the\nQueen, \"by an absurd arrangement! Consider, that it is imprudent in\nyou to make me remember what I have condescended to forget. You ought\nonly to congratulate yourself on possessing a son so amiable that his\nmerit induces me to prefer him to the most powerful Genii in all the\nelements; and as I have deigned to descend to him, accept with respect\nthe honour I am good enough to confer on you, and do not give me time\nto change my mind.\"\n\nThe Queen, as proud as the Fairy, had never conceived that there was a\nrank on earth higher than the throne. She valued little the pretended\nhonour which the Fairy offered her. Having always commanded every one\nwho approached her, she by no means desired to have a daughter-in-law\nto whom she must herself pay homage. Therefore, far from replying to\nher, she remained motionless, and contented herself with fixing her\neyes upon me. I was as much astounded as she was, and fixing my eyes on\nher in the same manner, it was easy for the Fairy to perceive that our\nsilence expressed sentiments very opposite to the joy with which she\nwould have inspired us.\n\n\"What is the meaning of this?\" said she, sharply. \"How comes it that\nmother and son are both silent? Has this agreeable surprise deprived\nyou of the power of speech? or are you blind and rash enough to reject\nmy offer? Say, Prince,\" said she to me, \"are you so ungrateful and so\nimprudent as to despise my kindness? Do you not consent to give me\nyour hand this moment?\"\n\n\"No, Madam, I assure you,\" replied I, quickly. \"Although I am sincerely\ngrateful to you for past favours, I cannot agree to discharge my debt\nto you by such means; and, with the Queen's permission, I decline to\npart so soon with my liberty. Name any other mode of acknowledging your\nfavours, and I will not consider it impossible; but as to that you\nhave proposed, excuse me if you please, for----\" \"How! insignificant\ncreature!\" interrupted the Fairy, furiously. \"Thou darest to resist me!\nAnd you, foolish Queen! you see, without anger, this conduct--What do\nI say? without anger! It is you who authorize it! For it is your own\ninsolent looks that have inspired him with the audacity to refuse me!\"\n\nThe Queen, already stung by the contemptuous language of the Fairy, was\nno longer mistress of herself, and accidentally casting her eyes on a\nlooking-glass, before which we happened to be standing at the moment,\nthe wicked Fairy thus provoked her: \"What answer can I make you,\" said\nshe, \"that you ought not to make to yourself? Deign to contemplate,\nwithout prejudice, the object this glass presents to you, and let it\nreply for me.\" The Fairy easily comprehended the Queen's insinuation.\n\"It is the beauty, then, of this precious son of yours that renders\nyou so vain,\" said she to her, \"and has exposed me to so degrading a\nrefusal! I appear to you unworthy of him. Well,\" she continued, raising\nher voice furiously, \"having taken so much pains to make him charming,\nit is fit that I should complete my work, and that I should give you\nboth a cause, as novel as remarkable, to make you remember what you owe\nto me. Go, wretch!\" said she to me; \"boast that thou hast refused me\nthy heart and thy hand. Give them to her thou findest more worthy of\nthem than I am.\" So saying, my terrible lover struck me a blow on the\nhead. It was so heavy that I was dashed to the ground on my face, and\nfelt as though I were crushed by the fall of a mountain. Irritated by\nthis insult, I struggled to rise, but found it impossible. The weight\nof my body had become so great that I could not lift myself; all that\nI could do was to sustain myself on my hands, which had in an instant\nbecome two horrible paws, and the sight of them apprised me of the\nchange I had undergone. My form was that in which you found me. I cast\nmy eyes for an instant on that fatal glass, and could no longer doubt\nmy cruel and sudden transformation.\n\nMy despair rendered me motionless. The Queen at this dreadful sight was\nalmost out of her mind. To put the last seal upon her barbarity, the\nfurious Fairy said to me, in an ironical tone, \"Go make illustrious\nconquests, more worthy of thee than an august Fairy. And as sense\nis not required when one is so handsome, I command thee to appear\nas stupid as thou art horrible, and to remain in this state until\na young and beautiful girl shall, of her own accord, come to seek\nthee, although fully persuaded thou wilt devour her. She must also,\"\ncontinued the Fairy, \"after discovering that her life is not in danger,\nconceive for thee a sufficiently tender affection to induce her to\nmarry thee. Until thou canst meet with this rare maiden it is my\npleasure that thou remain an object of horror to thyself and to all who\nbehold thee. As for you, too happy mother of so lovely a child,\" said\nshe to the Queen, \"I warn you that if you acknowledge to any one that\nthis monster is your son, he shall never recover his natural shape.\nNeither interest, nor ambition, nor the charms of his conversation,\nmust assist to restore him to it. Adieu! Do not be impatient; you will\nnot have long to wait. Such a darling will soon find a remedy for his\nmisfortune.\" \"Ah, cruel one!\" exclaimed the Queen, \"if my refusal has\noffended you, let your vengeance light on me. Take my life, but do not,\nI conjure you, destroy your own work.\" \"You forget yourself, great\nPrincess,\" replied the Fairy, in an ironical tone, \"you demean yourself\ntoo much. I am not handsome enough for you to condescend to entreat\nme; but I am firm in my resolutions. Adieu, powerful Queen; adieu,\nbeautiful Prince; it is not fair that I should longer annoy you with\nmy hateful presence. I withdraw; but I have still charity enough to\nwarn thee,\" addressing herself to me, \"that thou must forget who thou\nart. If thou sufferest thyself to be flattered by vain respects or by\npompous titles, thou art lost irretrievably! And thou art equally lost\nif thou shouldst dare to avail thyself of the intellect I leave thee\npossessed of, to shine in conversation.\"\n\nWith these words she disappeared, and left the Queen and me in a state\nwhich can neither be described nor imagined. Lamentations are the\nconsolation of the unhappy; but our misery was too great to seek relief\nin them. My mother determined to stab herself, and I to fling myself in\nthe adjacent canal. Without communicating our intentions to each other,\nwe were on the point of executing these fatal designs, when a female\nof majestic mien, and whose manner inspired us with profound respect,\nappeared, and bade us remember that it was cowardice to succumb to the\ngreatest misfortunes, and that with time and courage there was no evil\nthat could not be remedied. The Queen, however, was inconsolable; tears\nstreamed from her eyes, and not knowing how to inform her subjects that\ntheir sovereign was transformed into a horrible monster, she abandoned\nherself to the most fearful despair. The Fairy (for she was one, and\nthe same whom you have seen here), knowing both her misery and her\nembarrassment, recalled to her the indispensable obligation she was\nunder to conceal from her people this dreadful adventure, and that in\nlieu of yielding to despair, it would be better to seek some remedy for\nthe mischief.\n\n\"Is there one to be found,\" exclaimed the Queen, \"which is powerful\nenough to prevent the fulfilment of a Fairy's sentence?\" \"Yes, Madam,\"\nreplied the Fairy, \"there is a remedy for everything. I am a Fairy as\nwell as she whose fury you have just felt the effects of, and my power\nis equal to hers. It is true that I cannot immediately repair the\ninjury she has done you, for we are not permitted to act directly in\nopposition to each other. She who has caused your misfortune is older\nthan I am, and age has amongst us a particular title to respect. But as\nshe could not avoid attaching a condition upon which the spell might\nbe broken, I will assist you to break it. I grant that it will be a\ndifficult task to terminate this enchantment; but it does not appear to\nme to be impossible. Let me see what I can do for you by the exertion\nof all the means in my power.\"\n\nUpon this she drew a book from under her robe, and after taking a\nfew mysterious steps, she seated herself at a table, and read for a\nconsiderable time with such intense application that large drops of\nperspiration stood on her forehead. At length she closed the book\nand meditated profoundly. The expression of her countenance was so\nserious that for some time we were led to believe that she considered\nmy misfortune irreparable; but recovering from a sort of trance, and\nher features resuming their natural beauty, she informed us that she\nhad discovered a remedy for our disasters. \"It will be slow,\" said she,\n\"but it will be sure. Keep your secret; let it not transpire, so that\nany one can suspect you are concealed beneath this horrible disguise,\nfor in that case you will deprive me of the power of delivering you\nfrom it. Your enemy flatters herself you will divulge it; it is for\nthat reason she did not take from you the power of speech.\"\n\nThe Queen declared that the condition was an impossible one, as two\nof her women had been present at the fatal transformation, and had\nrushed out of the apartment in great terror, which must have excited\nthe curiosity of the guards and the courtiers. She imagined that the\nwhole Court was by this time aware of it, and that all the kingdom,\nand even all the world, would speedily receive the intelligence; but\nthe Fairy knew a way to prevent the disclosure of the secret. She made\nseveral circles, now solemnly, now rapidly, uttering words of which we\ncould not comprehend the meaning, and finished by raising her hand in\nthe air in the style of one who is pronouncing an imperative order.\nThis gesture, added to the words she had uttered, was so powerful,\nthat every breathing creature in the Palace became motionless, and\nwas changed into a statue. They are all still in the same state. They\nare the figures you behold in various directions and in the very\nattitudes they had assumed at the instant the Fairy's potent spell\nsurprised them. The Queen, who at that moment cast her eyes upon the\ngreat court-yard, observed this change taking place in a prodigious\nnumber of persons. The silence which suddenly succeeded to the stir\nof a multitude, awoke a feeling of compassion in her heart for the\nmany innocent beings who were deprived of life for my sake; but the\nFairy comforted her by saying that she would only retain her subjects\nin that condition as long as their discretion was necessary. It was a\nprecaution she was compelled to take, but she promised she would make\nup to them for it, and that the period they passed in that state would\nnot be added to the years allotted to their existence. \"They will be so\nmuch the younger,\" said the Fairy to the Queen; \"so cease to deplore\nthem, and leave them here with your son. He will be quite safe, for\nI have raised such thick fogs around this Castle, that it will be\nimpossible for any one to enter it but when we think fit. I will convey\nyou,\" she continued, \"where your presence is necessary. Your enemies\nare plotting against you. Be careful to proclaim to your people that\nthe Fairy who educated your son retains him near her for an important\npurpose, and keeps with her also all the persons who were in attendance\non you.\"\n\nIt was not without shedding a flood of tears that my mother could\nforce herself to leave me. The Fairy renewed her assurances to her\nthat she would always watch over me, and protested that I had only to\nwish, and to see the accomplishment of my desires. She added that my\nmisfortunes would shortly end, provided neither the Queen nor I raised\nup an obstacle by some act of imprudence. All these promises could\nnot console my mother. She wished to remain with me, and to leave the\nFairy, or any one she might consider the most proper person, to govern\nthe kingdom; but fairies are imperious, and will be obeyed. My mother,\nfearing by a refusal to increase my miseries and deprive me of the aid\nof this beneficent spirit, consented to all she insisted on. She saw\na beautiful car approach; it was drawn by the same white stags that\nbrought her here to day. The Fairy made the Queen mount by her side.\nShe had scarcely time to embrace me, her affairs demanded her presence\nelsewhere, and she was warned that a longer sojourn in this place would\nbe prejudicial to me. She was transported with extraordinary velocity\nto the spot where her army was encamped. They were not surprised to see\nher arrive with this equipage. Everybody believed her to be accompanied\nby the old Fairy, for the one who was with her kept herself unseen,\nand departed again immediately to return to this place, which, in an\ninstant, she embellished with everything that her imagination could\nsuggest and her art supply.\n\nThis good-natured Fairy permitted me also to add whatever I fancied\nwould please me, and after having done for me all she could, she\nleft me with exhortations to take courage, and promising to come\noccasionally and impart to me such hopes as she might entertain of a\nfavourable issue to my adventure.\n\nI seemed to be alone in the Palace. I was only so to sight. I was\nserved as if I were in the midst of my courtiers, and my occupations\nwere nearly the same as those which were afterwards yours. I read,\nI went to the play, I cultivated a garden which I had made to amuse\nme, and found something agreeable in everything I undertook. What I\nplanted arrived at perfection in the same day. It took no more time to\nproduce the bower of roses to which I am indebted for the happiness of\nbeholding you here.\n\nMy benefactress came very often to see me. Her presence and her\npromises alleviated my distresses. Through her, the Queen received news\nof me, and I news of the Queen. One day I saw the Fairy arrive with\njoy sparkling in her eyes. \"Dear Prince,\" said she to me, \"the moment\nof your happiness approaches!\" She then informed me that he whom you\nbelieved to be your father had passed a very uncomfortable night in\nthe forest. She related to me, in a few words, the adventure which had\ncaused him to undertake the journey, without revealing to me your real\nparentage. She apprized me that the worthy man was compelled to seek an\nasylum from the misery he had endured during four-and-twenty hours.\n\n\"I go,\" said she, \"to give orders for his reception. It must be an\nagreeable one. He has a charming daughter. I propose that she shall\nrelease you. I have examined the conditions which my cruel companion\nhas attached to your disenchantment. It is fortunate that she did not\nordain that your deliverer should come hither out of love for you. On\nthe contrary, she insisted that the young maiden should expect no less\nthan death, and yet expose herself to it voluntarily. I have thought\nof a scheme to oblige her to take that step. It is to make her believe\nthe life of her father is in danger, and that she has no other means of\nsaving him. I know that in order to spare her father any expense on her\naccount, she has asked him only to bring her a rose, whilst her sisters\nhave overwhelmed him with extravagant commissions. He will naturally\navail himself of the first favourable opportunity. Hide yourself in\nthis arbour, and seizing him the instant he attempts to gather your\nroses, threaten him that death will be the punishment of his audacity,\nunless he give you one of his daughters; or, rather, unless she\nsacrifice herself, according to the decree of our enemy. This man has\nfive daughters besides the one I have destined for you; but not one of\nthem is sufficiently magnanimous to purchase the life of their father\nat the price of their own. Beauty is alone capable of so grand an\naction.\"\n\nI executed exactly the Fairy's commands. You know, lovely Princess,\nwith what success. The merchant, to save his life, promised what I\ndemanded. I saw him depart without being able to persuade myself that\nhe would return with you. I could not flatter myself that my desire\nwould be fulfilled. What torment did I not suffer during the month he\nhad requested me to allow him. I longed for its termination only to be\ncertain of my disappointment. I could not imagine that a young, lovely,\nand amiable girl would have the courage to seek a monster, of whom she\nbelieved she was doomed to be the prey. Even supposing her to have\nsufficient fortitude to devote herself, she would have to remain with\nme without repenting the step she had taken, and that appeared to me\nan invincible obstacle. Besides, how could she behold me without dying\nwith affright? I passed my miserable existence in these melancholy\nreflections, and never was I more to be pitied. The month, however,\nelapsed, and my protectress announced to me your arrival. You remember,\nno doubt, the pomp with which you were received. Not daring to express\nmy delight in words, I endeavoured to prove it to you by the most\nmagnificent signs of rejoicing. The Fairy, ceaseless in her attentions\nto me, prohibited me from making myself known to you. Whatever terror I\nmight inspire you with, or whatever kindness you might show me, I was\nnot permitted to seek to please you, nor to express any love for you,\nnor to discover to you in any way who I was. I could have recourse,\nhowever, to excessive good-nature, as, fortunately, the malignant Fairy\nhad forgotten to forbid my giving you proof of that.\n\nThese regulations seemed hard to me, but I was compelled to subscribe\nto them, and I resolved to present myself before you only for a few\nmoments every day, and to avoid long conversations, in which my heart\nmight betray its tenderness. You came, charming Princess, and the first\nsight of you produced upon me a diametrically opposite effect to that\nwhich my monstrous appearance must have done upon you. To see you was\ninstantly to love you. Entering your apartment, tremblingly, my joy was\nexcessive to find that you could behold me with greater intrepidity\nthan I could behold myself. You delighted me infinitely when you\ndeclared that you would remain with me. An impulse of self-love, which\nI retained even under that most horrible of forms, led me to believe\nthat you had not found me so hideous as you anticipated.\n\nYour father departed satisfied. But my sorrow increased as I\nreflected that I was not allowed to win your favour in any way\nexcept by indulging the caprices of your taste. Your demeanour, your\nconversation, as sensible as it was unpretending, everything in you\nconvinced me that you acted solely on the principles dictated to you by\nreason and virtue, and that consequently I had nothing to hope for from\na fortunate caprice. I was in despair at being forbidden to address you\nin any other language than that which the Fairy had dictated, and which\nshe had expressly chosen as coarse and stupid.\n\nIn vain did I represent to her it was unnatural to expect you would\naccept my proposition to marry you. Her answer was always, \"Patience,\nperseverance, or all is lost.\" To recompense you for my silly\nconversation, she assured me she would surround you with all sorts of\npleasures, and give me the advantage of seeing you continually, without\nalarming you, or being compelled to say rude and impertinent things to\nyou. She rendered me invisible, and I had the gratification of seeing\nyou waited on by spirits who were also invisible, or who presented\nthemselves to you in the shapes of various animals.\n\nMore than this, the Fairy caused you to behold my natural form in your\nnightly slumbers, and in portraits by day, and made it speak to you\nin your dreams as I should have spoken to you myself. You obtained\na confused idea of my secret and my hopes, which she urged you to\nrealize, and by the means of a starry mirror I witnessed all your\ninterviews, and read in it either all you imagined you uttered or all\nthat you actually thought. This position, however, did not suffice\nto render me happy. I was only so in a dream, and my sufferings were\nreal. The intense affection with which you had inspired me obliged me\nto complain of the restraint under which I lived; but my state was\nmuch more wretched when I perceived that these beautiful scenes had\nno longer any charms for you. I saw you shed tears, which pierced\nmy heart, and would have destroyed me. You asked me if I was alone\nhere, and I was on the verge of discarding my feigned stupidity, and\nassuring you by the most passionate vows of the fact. They would have\nbeen uttered in terms that would have surprised you, and caused you to\nsuspect that I was not so coarse a brute as I pretended to be. I was\non the point even of declaring myself, when the Fairy, invisible to\nyou, appeared before me. By a threatening gesture, which terrified me,\nshe found a way to close my lips. O, heavens! by what means did she\nimpose silence upon me? She approached you with a poniard in her hand,\nand made signs to me that the first word I uttered would cost you your\nlife. I was so frightened that I naturally relapsed into the stupidity\nshe had ordered me to affect.\n\nMy sufferings were not yet at an end. You expressed a desire to visit\nyour father. I gave you permission without hesitation. Could I have\nrefused you anything? But I regarded your departure as my death-blow,\nand without the assistance of the Fairy I must have sunk under it.\nDuring your absence that generous being never quitted me. She saved\nme from destroying myself, which I should have done in my despair,\nnot daring to hope that you would return. The time you had passed in\nthis Palace rendered my condition more insupportable than it had been\npreviously, because I felt I was the most miserable of all men, without\nthe hope of making it known to you.\n\nMy most agreeable occupation was to wander through the scenes which\nyou had frequented, but my grief was increased by no longer seeing\nyou there. The evenings and hours when I used to have the pleasure of\nconversing with you for a moment, redoubled my afflictions, and were\nstill more painful to me. Those two months, the longest I had ever\nknown, ended at last, and you did not return. It was then my misery\nreached its climax, and that the Fairy's power was too weak to prevent\nmy sinking under my despair. The precautions she took to prevent my\nattempting my life were useless. I had a sure way which eluded her\npower. It was to refrain from food. By the potency of her spells she\ncontrived to sustain me for some time, but having exhausted all her\nsecrets, I grew weaker and weaker, and finally had but a few moments to\nbreathe, when you arrived to snatch me from the tomb.\n\nYour precious tears, more efficacious than all the cordials of the\ndisguised Genii who attended on me, delayed my soul upon the point of\nflight. In learning from your lamentations that I was dear to you, I\nenjoyed perfect felicity, and that felicity was at its height when you\naccepted me for your husband. Still I was not permitted to divulge to\nyou my secret, and the Beast was compelled to leave you without daring\nto disclose to you the Prince. You know the lethargy into which I fell,\nand which ended only with the arrival of the Fairy and the Queen. On\nawaking I found myself as you behold me, without being aware of how the\nchange took place.\n\nYou have witnessed what followed, but you could only imperfectly judge\nof the pain which the obstinacy of my mother caused me in opposing\na marriage so suitable and so glorious for me. I had determined,\nPrincess, rather to be a monster again than to abandon the hope of\nbeing the husband of so virtuous and charming a maiden. Had the secret\nof your birth remained for ever a mystery to me, love and gratitude\nwould not less have assured me that in possessing you I was the most\nfortunate of men!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Prince thus ended his narration, and Beauty was about to speak,\nwhen she was prevented by a burst of loud voices and warlike\ninstruments, which, however, did not appear to announce anything\nalarming. The Prince and Princess looked out of the window, as did also\nthe Fairy and the Queen who returned from their promenade. The noise\nwas occasioned by the arrival of a personage who, according to all\nappearances, could be no less than a king. His escort was obviously\na royal one, and there was an air of majesty in his demeanour which\naccorded with the state that accompanied him. The fine form of this\nsovereign, although of a certain age, testified that there had been few\nwho could have equalled him in appearance when in the flower of his\nyouth. He was followed by twelve of his body-guard, and some courtiers\nin hunting-dresses, who appeared as much astonished as their master\nto find themselves in a castle till now quite unknown to them. He\nwas received with the same honours that would have been paid to him\nin his own dominions, and all by invisible beings. Shouts of joy and\nflourishes of trumpets were heard, but no one was to be seen.\n\nThe Fairy, immediately on beholding him, said to the Queen, \"Here is\nthe King your brother, and the father of Beauty. He little expects\nthe pleasure of seeing you both here. He will be so much the more\ngratified, as you know he believes that his daughter has been long\ndead. He mourns her still, as he also does his wife, of whom he retains\nan affectionate remembrance.\" These words increased the impatience of\nthe Queen and the young Princess to embrace this monarch. They reached\nthe court-yard just as he dismounted. He saw, but could not recognize\nthem; not doubting, however, that they were advancing to receive him,\nhe was considering how and in what terms he should pay his compliments\nto them, when Beauty, flinging herself at his feet, embraced his knees,\nand called him \"Father!\"\n\nThe King raised her and pressed her tenderly in his arms, without\ncomprehending why she addressed him by that title. He imagined she must\nbe some orphan Princess, who sought his protection from some oppressor,\nand who made use of the most touching expression in order to obtain\nher request. He was about to assure her that he would do all that lay\nin his power to assist her, when he recognized the Queen his sister,\nwho, embracing him in her turn, presented her son to him. She then\ninformed him of some of the obligations they were under to Beauty, and\nespecially of the frightful enchantment that had just been terminated.\nThe King praised the young Princess, and desired to know her name,\nwhen the Fairy, interrupting him, asked if it was necessary to name\nher parents, and if he had never known any one whom she resembled\nsufficiently to enable him to guess them. \"If I judged only from her\nfeatures,\" said he, gazing upon her earnestly, and not being able to\nrestrain a few tears, \"the title she has given to me is legitimately\nmy due; but notwithstanding that evidence, and the emotion which her\npresence occasions me, I dare not flatter myself that she is the\ndaughter whose loss I have deplored; for I had the most positive proof\nthat she had been devoured by wild beasts. Yet,\" he continued, still\nexamining her countenance, \"she resembles perfectly the tender and\nincomparable wife whom death has deprived me of. Oh, that I could but\nventure to indulge in the delightful hope of beholding again in her the\nfruit of a happy union, the bonds of which were too soon broken!\"\n\n\"You may, my liege,\" replied the Fairy; \"Beauty is your daughter. Her\nbirth is no longer a secret here. The Queen and Prince know who she is.\nI caused you to direct your steps this way on purpose to inform you;\nbut this is not a fitting place for me to enter into the details of\nthis adventure. Let us enter the Palace. After you have rested yourself\nthere a short time I will relate to you all you desire to know. When\nyou have indulged in the delight which you must feel at finding a\ndaughter so beautiful and so virtuous I will communicate to you another\npiece of intelligence, which will afford you equal gratification.\"\n\nThe King, accompanied by his daughter and the Prince, was ushered by\nthe monkey officers into the apartment destined for him by the Fairy,\nwho took this opportunity of restoring to the statues the liberty\nof relating what they had witnessed. As their fate had excited the\ncompassion of the Queen, it was from her hands that the Fairy desired\nthey should receive the benefit of re-animation. She placed her wand\nin the Queen's hand, who, by her instructions, described with it seven\ncircles in the air, and then pronounced these words: \"Be re-animated.\nYour King is restored to you.\" All the statues immediately began to\nmove, walk, and act as formerly, retaining only a confused idea of what\nhad happened to them.\n\nAfter this ceremony the Fairy and the Queen returned to the King, whom\nthey found in conversation with Beauty and the Prince, caressing each\nin turn, and most fondly his daughter, of whom he inquired a hundred\ntimes how she had been preserved from the wild beasts who had carried\nher off, without remembering that she had answered him from the first\nthat she knew nothing about it, and had been ignorant even of the\nsecret of her birth.\n\nThe Prince also talked without being attended to, repeating a hundred\ntimes the obligations he was under to Princess Beauty. He desired to\nacquaint the King with the promises which the Fairy had made him,\nthat he should marry the Princess, and to beg he would not refuse his\ncheerful consent to the alliance. This conversation and these caresses\nwere interrupted by the entrance of the Queen and the Fairy. The King,\nwho had recovered his daughter, fully appreciated his happiness, but\nwas as yet ignorant to whom he was indebted for this precious gift.\n\n\"It is to me,\" said the Fairy; \"and I alone can explain to you the\nadventure. I shall not limit my benefits to the recital of that alone.\nI have other tidings in store for you, not less agreeable. Therefore,\ngreat King, you may note this day as one of the happiest of your\nlife.\" The company, perceiving that the Fairy was about to commence\nher narration, evinced by their silence the great attention they\nwere anxious to pay to it. To satisfy their curiosity the Fairy thus\naddressed the King:--\n\n\"Beauty, my liege, and perhaps the Prince, are the only persons present\nwho are not acquainted with the laws of the Fortunate Island. It is\nnecessary I should explain those laws to them. The inhabitants of\nthat island, and even the King himself, are allowed perfect liberty\nto marry according to their inclinations, in order that there may be\nno obstacle whatever to their happiness. It was in virtue of this\nprivilege that you, Sire, selected for your wife a young shepherdess\nwhom you met one day when you were hunting. Her beauty and her good\nconduct were considered by you deserving of that honour. You raised\nher to the throne, and placed her in a rank from which the lowliness\nof her birth seemed to have excluded her, but of which she was worthy,\nby the nobleness of her character and the purity of her mind. You know\nthat you had continual reasons to rejoice in the selection you had\nmade. Her gentleness, her obliging disposition, and her affection for\nyou, equalled the charms of her person. But you did not long enjoy the\nhappiness of beholding her. After she had made you the father of Beauty\nyou were under the necessity of travelling to the frontiers of your\nkingdom, to suppress some revolutionary demonstrations of which you\nhad received intimation. During this period you lost your dear wife,\nan affliction which you felt the more sensibly because, in addition to\nthe love with which her beauty had inspired you, you had the greatest\nrespect for the many rare qualities that adorned her mind. Despite\nher youth and the little education she had received, you found her\nnaturally endowed with profound judgment, and your wisest ministers\nwere astonished at the excellent advice she gave you, and the policy by\nwhich she enabled you to succeed in all your undertakings.\"\n\nThe King, who still brooded over his affliction, and to whose\nimagination the death of that dear wife was ever present, could not\nlisten to this account without being sensibly affected, and the Fairy,\nwho observed his emotion, said, \"Your feelings prove that you deserved\nthat happiness. I will no longer dwell on a subject that is so painful\nto you, but I must reveal to you that the supposed shepherdess was a\nFairy, and my sister, who, having heard that the Fortunate Island was\na charming country, and also much praise of its laws and of the gentle\nnature of your government, was particularly anxious to visit it. The\ndress of a shepherdess was the only disguise she assumed, intending to\nenjoy for a short time a pastoral life. You encountered her in her new\nabode. Her youth and beauty touched your heart. She yielded to a desire\nto discover whether the qualities of your mind equalled those she found\nin your person. She trusted to her condition and power as a Fairy,\nwhich could place her at a wish beyond the reach of your assiduities if\nthey became too importunate, or if you should presume to take advantage\nof the humble position in which you found her. She was not alarmed at\nthe sentiments with which you might inspire her, and persuaded that her\nvirtue was sufficient to guarantee her against the snares of love, she\nattributed her sensations to a simple curiosity to ascertain if there\nwere still upon the earth men capable of loving virtue unembellished\nby exterior ornaments, which render it more brilliant and respectable\nto vulgar souls than its own intrinsic merit, and frequently, by\ntheir fatal attractions, obtain the reputation of virtue for the most\nabominable vices.\n\n\"Under this illusion, far from retreating to our common asylum, as she\nhad at first proposed, she chose to inhabit a little cottage she had\nraised for herself in the solitude in which you met her, accompanied\nby a phantom, representing her mother. These two persons appeared to\nlive there upon the produce of a pretended flock that had no fear of\nthe wolves, being, in fact, genii in that form. It was in that cottage\nshe received your attentions, which produced all the effect you could\ndesire. She could not resist the offer you made her of your crown. You\nnow know the extent of the obligations you were under to her at a time\nwhen you imagined she owed everything to you, and were satisfied to\nremain in that error.\n\n\"What I now tell you is a positive proof that ambition had no share in\nthe consent she accorded to your wishes. You are aware that we look\nupon the greatest kingdoms but as gifts which we can bestow on any\none at our pleasure. But she appreciated your generous behaviour, and\nesteeming herself happy in uniting herself to so excellent a man, she\nrashly entered into that engagement without reflecting on the danger\nwhich she thereby incurred. For our laws expressly forbid our union\nwith those who have not as much power as ourselves, more especially\nwhen we have not arrived at that age when we are privileged to exercise\nour authority over others, and enjoy the right of presiding in our\nturn. Previous to that time we are subordinate to our elders, and that\nwe may not abuse our power, we have only the liberty of disposing of\nour hands in favour of some spirit or sage whose knowledge is at least\nequal to our own. It is true that after that period we are free to form\nwhat alliance we please; but it is seldom that we avail ourselves of\nthat right, and never without scandal to our order. Those who do are\ngenerally old fairies, who almost always pay dearly for their folly;\nfor they marry young men, who despise them, and, although they are\nnot punished as criminals, they are sufficiently punished by the bad\nconduct of their husbands, on whom they are not permitted to avenge\nthemselves.\n\n\"It is the only penalty imposed upon them. The disagreements which\nalmost invariably follow the indiscretion they have committed takes\nfrom them the desire of revealing to those profane persons from whom\nthey expected respect and attention the great secrets of art. My\nsister, however, was not placed in either of these positions. Endowed\nwith every charm that could inspire affection, she was not of the\nrequired age; but she consulted only her love. She flattered herself\nshe could keep her marriage a secret. She succeeded in so doing for a\nshort time. We rarely make inquiries about those who are absent. Each\nis occupied with her own affairs, and we fly through the world, doing\ngood or ill, according to our inclinations, without being obliged at\nour return to account for our actions, unless we have been guilty of\nsome act which causes us to be talked about, or that some beneficent\nfairy, moved by the unjust persecution of some unfortunate mortal, lays\na complaint against the offender. In short, there must arise some\nunforeseen event to occasion us to consult the general book in which\nall we do is written at the same instant without the aid of hands.\nSaving these occasions, we have only to appear in the general assembly\nthree times in the year; and, as we travel very swiftly, the affair\ndoes not occupy more than a couple of hours.\n\n\"My sister was obliged to give light to the throne (such is our phrase\nfor the performance of that duty). On such occasions, she arranged for\nyou a hunting party at some distance, or a journey of pleasure, and\nafter your departure she feigned some indisposition, to remain alone in\nher cabinet, or that she had letters to write, or that she wished to\nrepose. Neither in the palace nor amongst us was there any suspicion\nof that which it was so much her interest to conceal. This mystery,\nhowever, was not one for me. The consequences were dangerous, and I\nwarned her of them; but she loved you too much to repent the step she\nhad taken. Desiring even to justify it in my eyes, she insisted that I\nshould pay you a visit.\n\n\"Without flattering you, I confess that, if the sight of you did not\ncompel me entirely to excuse her weakness, it at least diminished\nconsiderably my surprise at it, and increased the zeal with which I\nlaboured to keep it a secret. Her dissimulation was successful for two\nyears; but at length she betrayed herself. We are obliged to confer\na certain number of favours on the world generally, and to return an\naccount of them. When my sister gave in hers, it appeared that she\nhad limited her excursions and her benefits to the confines of the\nFortunate Island.\n\n\"Several of our ill-natured fairies blamed this conduct, and our Queen,\nin consequence, demanded of her why she had restricted her benevolence\nto this small corner of the earth, when she could not be ignorant that\na young fairy was bound to travel far and wide, and manifest to the\nuniverse at large our pleasure and our power.\n\n\"As this was no new regulation, my sister could not murmur at the\nenforcement of it, nor find a pretext for objecting to obey it. She\npromised, therefore, to do so; but her impatience to see you again, the\nfear of her absence being discovered at the Palace, the impossibility\nof acting secretly on a throne, did not permit her to absent herself\nlong enough and often enough to fulfil her promise; and at the next\nassembly she could hardly prove that she had been out of the Fortunate\nIsland for a quarter of an hour.\n\n\"Our Queen, greatly displeased with her, threatened to destroy that\nisland, and so prevent her continuing to violate our laws. This threat\nagitated her so greatly that the least sharp-sighted fairy could see\nto what a point she carried her interest for that fatal island, and\nthe wicked fairy who turned the Prince here present into a frightful\nmonster, was convinced by her confusion that, on opening the great\nbook, she should find in it an important entry which would afford\nsome exercise to her propensities for mischief. 'It is there,' she\nexclaimed, 'that the truth will appear, and that we shall learn what\nhas really been her occupation!' and with these words, she opened the\nvolume before the whole assembly, and read the details of all that had\ntaken place during the last two years in a loud and distinct voice.\n\n\"All the fairies made an extraordinary uproar on hearing of this\ndegrading alliance, and overwhelmed my wretched sister with the most\ncruel reproaches. She was degraded from our order, and condemned to\nremain a prisoner amongst us. If her punishment had consisted of the\nfirst penalty only, she would have consoled herself; but the second\nsentence, far more terrible, made her feel all the rigour of both.\nThe loss of her dignity little affected her; but, loving you fondly,\nshe begged, with tears in her eyes, that they would be satisfied with\ndegrading her, and not deprive her of the pleasure of living as a\nsimple mortal with her husband and her dear daughter.\n\n\"Her tears and supplications touched the hearts of the younger judges,\nand I felt, from the murmur that arose, that if the votes had been\ncollected at that instant, she would certainly have escaped with a\nreprimand. But one of the eldest, who, from her extreme decrepitude had\nobtained amongst us the name of 'the Mother of the Seasons,' did not\ngive the Queen time to speak and admit that pity had touched her heart\nas well as the others'.\n\n\"'There is no excuse for this crime,' cried the detestable old\ncreature, in her cracked voice. 'If it is permitted to go unpunished,\nwe shall be daily exposed to similar insults. The honour of our order\nis absolutely involved in it. This miserable being, attached to earth,\ndoes not regret the loss of a rank which elevated her a hundred\ndegrees higher above monarchs than they are above their subjects. She\ntells us that her affections, her fears, and her wishes, all turn\nupon her unworthy family. It is through them we must punish her. Let\nher husband deplore her! Let her daughter, the shameful fruit of her\nillegal marriage, become the bride of a monster, to expiate the folly\nof a mother who could allow herself to be captivated by the frail and\ncontemptible beauty of a mortal!'\n\n\"This cruel speech revived the severity of many who had been previously\ninclined to mercy. Those who continued to pity her being too few to\noffer any opposition, the sentence was approved of in its integrity;\nand our Queen herself, whose features had indicated a feeling of\ncompassion, resuming their severity, confirmed the majority of votes\nin favour of the motion of the ill-natured old Fairy. My sister,\nhowever, in her endeavours to obtain a revocation of this cruel decree,\nto propitiate her judges, and to excuse her marriage, had drawn so\ncharming a portrait of you, that it inflamed the heart of the fairy\nGoverness of the Prince (she who had opened the great volume); but this\ndawning passion only served to increase the hatred which that wicked\nFairy already bore to your unfortunate wife.\n\n\"Unable to resist her desire to see you, she concealed her passion\nunder the colour of a pretext that she was anxious to ascertain if\nyou deserved that a fairy should make such a sacrifice for you as my\nsister had done. As she had obtained the sanction of the assembly to\nher guardianship of the Prince, she could not have ventured to quit\nhim for any length of time if the ingenuity of love had not inspired\nher with the idea of placing a protecting genius and two inferior and\ninvisible fairies to watch over him in her absence. After taking this\nprecaution, there was nothing to prevent her following her inclination,\nwhich speedily carried her to the Fortunate Island. In the meanwhile,\nthe women and officers of the imprisoned Queen, surprised that she did\nnot come out of her private cabinet, became alarmed. The express orders\nshe had given them not to disturb her, induced them to pass the night\nwithout knocking at the door; but impatience at last taking place of\nall other considerations, they knocked loudly, and no one answering,\nthey forced the doors, under the impression that some accident had\nhappened to her. Although they had prepared themselves for the worst,\nthey were not the less astonished at perceiving no trace of her. They\ncalled her, they hunted for her in vain. They could discover nothing\nto appease the despair into which her disappearance had plunged them.\nThey imagined a thousand reasons for it, each more absurd than the\nother. They could not suspect her evasion to be voluntary. She was\nall-powerful in your kingdom. The sovereign jurisdiction you had\nconfided to her was not disputed by any one. Everybody obeyed her\ncheerfully. The affection you had for each other, that which she\nentertained for her daughter and for her subjects, who adored her,\nprevented them from supposing she had fled. Where could she go to be\nmore happy? On the other hand, what man would have dared to carry off\na queen from the midst of her own guards, and the centre of her own\npalace? Such a ravisher must have left some indications of the road he\nhad taken.\n\n\"The disaster was certain, although the causes of it were unknown.\nThere was another evil to dread; namely, the feelings with which\nyou would receive this fatal news. The innocence of those who were\nresponsible for the safety of the Queen's person by no means satisfied\nthem that they should not feel the effects of your wrath. They felt\nthey must either fly the kingdom, and thereby appear guilty of a crime\nthey had not committed, or they must find some means of hiding this\nmisfortune from you.\n\n\"After long deliberation, they could imagine no other than that of\npersuading you the Queen was dead, and this plan they put instantly\ninto execution. They sent off a courier to inform you that she had been\nsuddenly taken ill; a second followed a few hours afterwards, bearing\nthe news of her death, in order to prevent your love inducing you to\nreturn post-haste to Court. Your appearance would have deranged all the\nmeasures they had taken for general security. They paid to the supposed\ndefunct all the funeral honours due to her rank, to your affection,\nand the sorrow of a people who adored her, and who wept her loss as\nsincerely as yourself.\n\n\"This cruel adventure was always kept a profound secret from you,\nalthough it was known to every other inhabitant of the Fortunate\nIsland. The first astonishment had given publicity to the whole affair.\nThe affliction you felt at this loss was proportionate to your love;\nyou found no consolation except in the innocent caresses of your\ninfant daughter, whom you sent for to be with you. You determined\nnever again to be separated from her; she was charming, and presented\nyou continually with a living portrait of the Queen, her mother. The\nhostile Fairy, who had been the original cause of all this trouble by\nopening the great book in which she discovered my sister's marriage,\nhad not come to see you without paying the price of her curiosity.\nYour appearance had produced the same effect upon her heart as it had\npreviously done on that of your wife, and instead of this experience\ninducing her to excuse my sister, she ardently desired to commit the\nsame fault. Hovering about you invisibly, she could not resolve to\nquit you. Beholding you inconsolable, she had no hope of success, and\nfearing to add the shame of your refusal to the pain of disappointment,\nshe did not dare make herself known to you; on the other hand,\nsupposing she did appear, she imagined that by skilful man\u0153uvring,\nshe might accustom you to see her, and perhaps in time induce you to\nlove her. But to effect this, she must be introduced to you; and after\nmuch pondering to find some decorous way of presenting herself, she\nhit on one. There was a neighbouring Queen who had been driven out of\nher dominions by a usurper, who had murdered her husband. This unhappy\nPrincess was ranging the world to find an asylum and an avenger. The\nFairy carried her off, and having deposited her in a safe place, put\nher to sleep, and assumed her form. You beheld, Sire, that disguised\nFairy fling herself at your feet, and implore your protection and\nassistance to punish the assassin of a husband whom she professed she\nregretted as deeply as you did your Queen. She protested that her love\nfor him alone impelled her to this course, and that she renounced, with\nall her heart, a crown which she offered to him who should avenge her\ndear husband.\n\n\"The unhappy pity each other. You interested yourself in her\nmisfortunes the more readily for that she wept the loss of a beloved\nspouse, and that mingling her tears with yours, she talked to you\nincessantly of the Queen. You gave her your protection, and lost no\ntime in re-establishing her authority in the kingdom she pretended\nto, by punishing the rebels and the usurper she seemed to desire; but\nshe would neither return to it nor quit you. She implored you, for\nher own security, to govern the kingdom in her name, as you were too\ngenerous to accept it as a gift from her, and to permit her to reside\nat your Court. You could not refuse her this new favour. She appeared\nto be necessary to you for the education of your daughter, for the\ncunning Fairy knew well enough that child was the sole object of your\naffection. She feigned an exceeding fondness for her, and had her\ncontinually in her arms. Anticipating the request you were about to\nmake to her, she earnestly begged to be permitted to take charge of her\neducation, saying that she would have no heir but that dear child, whom\nshe looked on as her own, and who was the only being she loved in the\nworld; because she said she reminded her of a daughter she had had by\nher husband, and who perished along with him.\n\n\"The proposal appeared to you so advantageous that you did not hesitate\nto entrust the Princess to her care, and to give her full authority\nover her. She acquitted herself of her duties to perfection, and by her\ntalent and her affection obtained your implicit confidence and your\nlove as for a tender sister. This was not sufficient for her: all her\nanxiety was but to become your wife. She neglected nothing to gain this\nend; but even had you never been the husband of the most beautiful of\nfairies, she was not formed to inspire you with love. The shape she had\nassumed could not bear comparison with hers into whose place she would\nhave stolen. It was extremely ugly, and being naturally so herself, she\nhad only the power of appearing beautiful one day in the year.\n\n\"The knowledge of this discouraging fact convinced her that to succeed\nshe must have recourse to other charms than those of beauty. She\nintrigued secretly to oblige the people and the nobility to petition\nyou to take another wife, and to point her out to you as the desirable\nperson; but certain ambiguous conversations she had held with you, in\norder to sound your inclinations, enabled you easily to discover the\norigin of the pressing solicitations with which you were importuned.\nYou declared positively that you would not hear of giving a step-mother\nto your daughter, nor lower her position, by making her subordinate\nto a queen, from that which she held as the highest person next to\nyourself in the kingdom, and the acknowledged heir to your throne. You\nalso gave the false Queen to understand that you should feel obliged by\nher returning to her own dominions immediately, and without ado, and\npromised her that when she was settled there you would render her all\nthe services she could expect from a faithful friend and a generous\nneighbour; but you did not conceal from her that if she did not take\nthis course willingly, she ran the risk of being compelled to do so.\n\n\"The invincible obstacle you then opposed to her love threw her into a\nterrific rage, but she affected so much indifference about the matter\nthat she succeeded in persuading you that her attempt was caused by\nambition, and the fear that eventually you might take possession of her\ndominions, preferring, notwithstanding the earnestness with which she\nhad appeared to offer them to you, to let you believe she was insincere\nin that case, rather than you should suspect her real sentiments. Her\nfury was not less violent because it was suppressed. Not doubting that\nit was Beauty who, more powerful in your heart than policy, caused you\nto reject the opportunity of increasing your empire in so glorious a\nmanner, she conceived for her a hatred as violent as that which she\nfelt for your wife, and resolved to get rid of her, fully believing\nthat if she were dead, your subjects, renewing their remonstrances,\nwould compel you to change your state, in order to leave a successor\nto the throne. The good soul was anything but of an age to present you\nwith one; but that she cared little about. The Queen, whose resemblance\nshe had assumed, was still young enough to have many children, and her\nugliness was no obstacle to a royal and political alliance.\n\n\"Notwithstanding the official declaration you had made, it was\nthought that if your daughter died you would yield to the continual\nrepresentations of your council. It was believed, also, that your\nchoice would fall upon this pretended Queen; and that idea surrounded\nher with numberless parasites. It was her design, therefore, by the aid\nof one of her flatterers, whose wife was as base as her husband, and\nas wicked as she was herself, to make away with your daughter. She had\nappointed this woman governess to the little Princess. These wretches\nsettled between them that they would smother her, and report that she\nhad died suddenly; but for more security they decided to commit this\nmurder in the neighbouring forest, so that nobody could surprise them\nin the execution of this barbarous deed. They counted on no one having\nthe slightest knowledge of it, and that it would be impossible to blame\nthem for not having sought for assistance before she expired, having\nthe legitimate excuse that they were too far away from any. The husband\nof the governess proposed to go in search of aid as soon as the child\nwas dead; and that no suspicion might be awakened, he was to appear\nsurprised at finding it too late when he returned to the spot where he\nhad left this tender victim of their fury, and he also rehearsed the\nsorrow and consternation he was to affect.\n\n\"When my wretched sister saw herself deprived of her power and\ncondemned to a cruel imprisonment, she requested me to console you\nand to watch over the safety of her child. It was unnecessary for her\nto take that precaution. The tie which unites us, and the pity I felt\nfor her, would have sufficed to ensure you my protection, and her\nentreaties could not increase the zeal with which I hastened to fulfil\nher decrees.\n\n\"I saw you as often as I could, and as much as prudence permitted me,\nwithout incurring the risk of arousing the suspicions of our enemy, who\nwould have denounced me as a Fairy in whom sisterly affection prevailed\nover the honour of her order, and who protected a guilty race. I\nneglected nothing to convince all the Fairies that I had abandoned my\nsister to her unhappy fate, and, by so doing, trusted to be more at\nliberty to serve her. As I watched every movement of your perfidious\nadmirer, not only with my own eyes, but those of the Genii, who were\nmy servants, her horrible intentions were not unknown to me. I could\nnot oppose her by open force; and though it would have been easy for\nme to annihilate those into whose hands she had delivered the little\ninnocent, prudence restrained me; for, had I carried off your daughter,\nthe malignant Fairy would have retaken her from me, without its being\npossible for me to defend her.\n\n\"It is a law amongst us that we must be a thousand years old before we\ncan dispute the power of the ancient fairies, or at any rate we must\nhave become serpents. The perils which accompany the latter condition\ncause us to call it the Terrible Act. The bravest amongst us shudder at\nthe thought of undertaking it. We hesitate a long time before we can\nresolve to expose ourselves to its consequences; and without the urgent\nmotive of hatred, love, or vengeance, there are few who do not prefer\nwaiting for time to make them Elders than to acquire their privilege\nby that dangerous transformation, in which the greater number are\ndestroyed. I was in this position. I wanted ten years of the thousand,\nand I had no resource but in artifice. I employed it successfully.\nI took the form of a monstrous she-bear, and, hiding myself in the\nforest selected for the execution of this detestable deed, when the\nwretches arrived to fulfil the barbarous order they had received, I\nflung myself upon the woman who had the child in her arms, and who\nhad already placed her hand on its mouth. Her fright made her drop\nthe precious burden, but she was not allowed to escape so easily; the\nhorror I felt at her unnatural conduct inspired me with the ferocity of\nthe brute I had assumed the form of. I strangled her, as well as the\ntraitor who accompanied her, and I carried off Beauty, after having\nrapidly stripped off her clothes and dyed them with the blood of her\nenemies. I scattered them also about the forest, taking the precaution\nto tear them in several places, so that they should not suspect the\nPrincess had escaped; and I withdrew, delighted at having succeeded so\ncompletely.\n\n\"The Fairy believed her object had been attained. The death of her two\naccomplices was an advantage to her. She was mistress of her secret,\nand the fate they had met with was but what she had herself destined\nthem to, in recompense of their guilty services. Another circumstance\nwas also favourable to her. Some shepherds who had seen this affair\nfrom a distance ran for assistance, which arrived just in time to see\nthe infamous wretches expire, and prevent the possibility of suspicion\nthat she had any part in it.\n\n\"The same circumstances were equally favourable to my enterprise. The\nwicked Fairy was as fully convinced as the people by them. The event\nwas so natural, that she never doubted it. She did not even condescend\nto exert her skill to satisfy herself of the fact. I was delighted at\nher fancied security. I should not have been the strongest had she\nattempted to recover little Beauty, because, in addition to the reasons\nwhich made her my superior, and which I have explained to you, she\npossessed the advantage of having received that child from you. You\nhad deputed to her your authority, which you alone could re-assume,\nand short of your wresting her yourself out of her hands, nothing\ncould interfere with the control she had a right to exercise over the\nPrincess till she was married.\n\n\"Preserved from this anxiety, I found myself overwhelmed by another, on\nrecollecting that the Mother of the Seasons had condemned my niece to\nmarry a monster; but she was then not three years old, and I flattered\nmyself I should be able, by study, to discover some expedient to\nprevent this curse being fulfilled to the letter, and to evade it by\nsome equivocation. I had plenty of time to ponder on it, and my first\ncare was, therefore, only to find some spot where I could place my\nprecious charge in safety.\n\n\"Profound secrecy was absolutely necessary to me. I dared not place\nher in a castle, nor exercise for her benefit any of the magnificent\nwonders of our art. Our enemy would have noticed it. It would have\nawakened an anxiety, the consequences of which would have been fatal\nto us. I thought it better to assume an humble garb, and confide the\ninfant to the care of the first person I met with, who appeared to me\nto be an honest man, and under whose roof I could promise myself she\nwould enjoy the comforts of life.\n\n\"Chance soon favoured my intentions. I found what suited me exactly.\nIt was a small house in a village, the door of which was open. I\nentered this cottage, which appeared to me that of a peasant in easy\ncircumstances. I saw by the light of a lamp three country women asleep\nbeside a cradle, which I concluded contained a baby. The cradle did\nnot at all correspond with the general simplicity of the apartment.\nEverything about it was sumptuous. I imagined that its little occupant\nwas ill, and that the deep sleep into which its nurses had fallen was\nthe consequence of long watching over it. I approached silently, with\nthe intention of curing the infant, and anticipated with pleasure the\nsurprise of these women, on awaking, to find their invalid restored to\nhealth, without knowing what to attribute it to. I was about to take\nthe child out of the cradle in order to breathe health into it; but my\ngood intentions were vain: it expired at the instant I touched it.\n\n\"I immediately conceived the idea of taking advantage of this\nmelancholy event, and substituting my niece for the dead child,\nwhich, by good fortune, was also a girl. I lost no time in making the\nexchange, and bearing away the lifeless infant, buried it carefully.\nI then returned to the house, at the door of which I knocked long and\nloudly, to awaken the sleepers.\n\n\"I told them, feigning a provincial dialect, that I was a stranger to\nthose parts, who was in want of a night's lodging. They good-naturedly\noffered me one, and then went to look at their nursling, whom they\nfound quietly asleep, with all the appearance of being in perfect\nhealth. They were astonished and delighted, not dreaming of the\ndeception I had practised upon them. They informed me that the child\nwas the daughter of a rich merchant; that one of their party had been\nher nurse, and after having weaned her had restored her to her parents,\nbut that the child, having fallen ill in her father's house, had been\nsent back to the country, in hope that the change of air would be of\nservice to her. They added, with satisfied countenances, that the\nexperiment had succeeded, and produced a better effect than all the\nremedies which had been resorted to previous to its adoption. They\ndetermined to carry her back to her father as soon as it was daylight,\nin order to afford him, as early as possible, the gratification he\nwould derive from her restoration, for conducing to which, also, they\nexpected to receive a liberal reward, as the child was his particular\nfavourite, although the youngest of eleven.\n\n\"At sunrise they set out, and I feigned to continue my journey,\ncongratulating myself on having so well provided for my niece's safety.\nTo insure this object more completely, and induce the supposed father\nstill more to attach himself to the little girl, I assumed the form\nof one of those women who go about telling fortunes, and arriving at\nthe merchant's door just as the nurses reached it with the child, I\nfollowed them into the house. He received them with delight, and taking\nthe little girl in his arms, became the dupe of his paternal affection,\nand fancied that the emotions simply caused by his kindly disposition\nwere the mysterious workings of nature at the sight of his offspring. I\nseized this opportunity of increasing the interest he believed he had\nin the child.\n\n\"'Look well upon this little one, my good gentleman,' said I, in the\nusual language of the class to which by my dress I appeared to belong.\n'She will be a great honour to thy family, she will bring thee immense\nwealth, and save thy life and that of all thy children. She will be\nso beautiful--so beautiful, that she will be called Beauty by all who\nbehold her.' As a reward for my prediction, he gave me a piece of gold,\nand I withdrew, perfectly satisfied. I had no longer any reason for\nresiding with the race of Adam. To profit by my leisure, I returned\nto Fairyland, resolving to remain in it some time. I passed my days\nthere quietly in consoling my sister, in giving her news of her dear\ndaughter, and in assuring her that, far from forgetting her, you\ncherished her memory as fondly as you had formerly herself.\n\n\"Such, great King, was our situation whilst you were suffering under\nthe fresh calamity which had deprived you of your child, and renewed\nall the affliction you had felt at the loss of her mother. Although\nyou could not positively accuse the person to whom you had confided\nthe infant of being the wilful cause of the accident, it was still\nimpossible for you not to look upon her with an evil eye; for though\nit did not appear that she was guilty of intentional mischief, it was\ncertainly through her neglecting to see that the young Princess was\nproperly attended and protected that the event had proved fatal.\n\n\"After the first paroxysms of your grief had subsided, she flattered\nherself that no obstacle would arise to prevent your espousing her.\nShe caused her emissaries to renew the proposal to you; but she was\nundeceived, and her mortification was excessive, when you declared that\nnot only were your intentions unchanged respecting a second marriage,\nbut that even, could anything alter your determination, it would never\nbe in her favour. To this declaration you added a positive order for\nher to quit the kingdom immediately. Her presence continually reminded\nyou of your child, and renewed your affliction. Such was the reason you\nadduced for this step; but your principal object was to put an end to\nthe intrigues she was constantly carrying on in order to gain her end.\n\n\"She was furious; but she was obliged to obey without being able\nto avenge herself. I had persuaded one of our ancient fairies to\nprotect you. Her power was considerable, for she joined to her age the\nadvantage of having been four times a serpent. In proportion to the\nexcessive peril incurred by that process, are the honours and powers\nattached to it. This Fairy, out of consideration for me, took you under\nher protection, and put it out of the power of your indignant lover to\ndo you any mischief.\n\n\"This disappointment was fortunate for the Queen, whose form she had\nassumed. She awoke her from her magic slumber, and concealing from her\nthe criminal use she had made of her features, placed her conduct in\nthe best light before her.\n\n\"She expatiated on the value of her intercession with the King, and on\nthe trouble she had saved her, and gave her the best advice she could\nhow to maintain herself for the future in her proper person. It was\nthen that, to console herself for your indifference, the Fairy returned\nto the young Prince and resumed her care of him. She became too fond\nof him, and not being able to make herself beloved, she caused him to\nsuffer that terrible effect of her fury.\n\n\"In the meanwhile, I had insensibly arrived at the privileged age,\nand my power was increased, but my desire to serve my sister and\nyourself induced me to feel that still I had not sufficient. My sincere\nfriendship blinding me to the perils of \"the Terrible Act,\" I resolved\nto undertake it.\n\n\"I became a serpent, and passed fortunately through the ordeal. I was\nthen in a position to act openly in favour of those who were persecuted\nby my malicious companions. If I cannot at all times entirely dissolve\ntheir fatal spells, I can at least counteract them by my skill and by\nmy counsels.\n\n\"My niece was amongst the number of those whom I could not completely\nfavour. Not daring to discover all the interest I took in her, it\nappeared to me that the best thing I could do was to allow her still\nto pass as the merchant's daughter. I visited her under various forms,\nand always returned satisfied. Her virtue and beauty equalled her good\nsense. At the age of fourteen she had already given proof of great\nfortitude during the changes of fortune which had befallen her supposed\nfather.\n\n\"I was delighted to find that the most cruel reverses had not been able\nto affect her tranquillity. On the contrary, by her cheerfulness, by\nthe charm of her conversation, she had succeeded in restoring it to\nthe hearts of her father and her brothers; and I rejoiced to observe\nalso that her sentiments were worthy of her birth. These pleasant\nreflections were, however, mingled with much bitterness, when I\nremembered that, with so many perfections, she was destined to be the\nwife of a monster. I toiled, I studied night and day to find some means\nof saving her from so great a misfortune, and was in despair at finding\nnone.\n\n\"This anxiety did not prevent me, however, from paying occasional\nvisits to you. Your wife, who was deprived of that liberty, implored\nme incessantly to go and see you; and, notwithstanding the protection\nof our friend, her affectionate heart was continually alarmed about\nyou, and persuaded her that the instant I lost sight of you would be\nthe last of your life, and in which you would be sacrificed to the fury\nof our enemy. This fear possessed her so strongly, that she scarcely\ngave me a moment's rest. No sooner did I bring her news of you than she\nsupplicated me so earnestly to return to you, that it was impossible to\nrefuse her.\n\n\"Compassionating her anxiety, and more desirous to end it than to save\nmyself the trouble it gave me, I employed against my cruel companion\nthe same weapons she had made use of against you. I proceeded to open\nthe great book. By good fortune, it was at the very moment she was\nholding that conversation with the Queen and Prince which terminated in\nhis transformation. I lost not a word of it, and my rapture was extreme\nat finding that, in seeking to assure her vengeance, she neutralized,\nwithout knowing it, the mischief which the Mother of the Seasons had\ndone us in dooming Beauty to be the bride of a monster.\n\n\"To crown our happiness, she added conditions so advantageous, that\nit almost seemed as if she made them on purpose to oblige me, for she\nthereby furnished my sister's daughter with an opportunity of proving\nthat she was worthy of being the issue of the purest of fairy-blood.\n\n\"The slightest sign or gesture expresses amongst us as much as it\nwould take an ordinary mortal three days to explain. I uttered but\none contemptuous word. It was enough to inform the assembly that our\nenemy had pronounced her own sentence in that which she had caused ten\nyears before to be passed upon your wife. At the age of the latter,\nthe weakness of love was more natural than at the advanced period of\nexistence of a fairy of the highest order. I spoke of the base and\nwicked actions which had accompanied that superannuated passion. I\nurged that if so many infamous acts were allowed to pass unpunished,\nmortals would be justified in saying that fairies existed in the world\nbut to dishonour nature and afflict the human race. Presenting the book\nto them, I condensed this abrupt oration in the single word \"Behold!\"\nIt was not the less powerful in its effect.\n\n\"There were present also friends of mine, both young and old, who\ntreated the amorous fury as she deserved. She had not succeeded in\nbecoming your wife, and to that disgrace was now added degradation from\nher order, and imprisonment, as in the case of the Queen of the Happy\nIsland.\n\n\"This council was held whilst she was with you, Madam, and your son. As\nsoon as she appeared amongst us, the result was communicated to her.\nI had the pleasure to be present, after which, closing the book, I\ndescended rapidly from the middle region of air in which our empire is\nsituated, to combat the effect of the despair to which you were ready\nto abandon yourselves. I performed my journey in as short a space of\ntime as I had occupied with my laconical address. I arrived soon enough\nto promise you my assistance. All sorts of reasons combined to invite\nme. Your virtues, your misfortunes, (said the Fairy, turning to the\nPrince), the advantages they offered to Beauty made me see in you the\nMonster that suited me. You appeared to me worthy of each other, and I\nfelt convinced that when you became acquainted, your hearts would do\neach other mutual justice.\n\n\"You know,\" she continued, addressing the Queen, \"what I have since\ndone to attain my object, and by what means I obliged Beauty to come\nto this Palace, where the sight of the Prince, and her interviews with\nhim, in the dreams I conjured up for her, had the effect I desired.\nThey kindled love in her heart without diminishing her virtue or\nweakening the sense of duty and gratitude which attached her to the\nMonster. In short, I have happily brought my scheme to perfection.\nYes, Prince,\" pursued the Fairy, \"you have no longer anything to fear\nfrom your enemy. She is stripped of her power, and will never again\nbe able to injure you by other spells. You have exactly fulfilled the\nconditions she imposed on you. Had you not done so, you would have\nbeen still bound by them, notwithstanding her eternal degradation.\nYou have made yourself beloved without the aid of your rank or your\nintelligence; and you, Beauty, are equally relieved from the curse\npronounced upon you by the Mother of the Seasons. You cheerfully\naccepted a monster for your husband. She has nothing more to exact. All\nnow tends to your happiness.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Fairy ceased speaking, and the King threw himself at her feet.\n\"Great Fairy,\" he exclaimed, \"how can I thank you for all the favours\nyou have heaped on my family? My gratitude for the benefits you have\nbestowed on us far exceeds my power of expression; but, my august\nsister,\" added he, \"that title encourages me to ask more favours; for,\ndespite the obligations I am already under to you, I cannot avoid\nconfessing to you that I shall never be truly happy so long as I am\ndeprived of the presence of my beloved Fairy Queen. This account of\nwhat she has done and what she has suffered for me would increase my\nlove and my affliction, were either of them capable of being augmented.\nAh, Madam,\" he added, \"can you not crown all your benefactions by\nenabling me to behold her?\"\n\nThe question was useless. If the Fairy had had the power to have\nafforded him that gratification, she was too willing to have waited for\nthe request: but she could not alter what the Council of the Fairies\nhad decreed. The young Queen being a prisoner in the middle regions\nof air, there was not the shadow of a chance of his being enabled to\nsee her; and the Fairy was about to explain this to him kindly, and\nto exhort him to await patiently some unforeseen events, of which she\nmight take advantage, when an enchanting melody stole upon their ears\nand interrupted her. The King, his daughter, the Queen, and the Prince,\nwere in ecstasies, but the Fairy experienced another sort of surprise.\nSuch music indicated the triumph of some Fairy. She could not imagine\nwhat Fairy had achieved a victory. Her fears suggested that it was the\nold one, or the Mother of the Seasons, who in her absence had obtained,\nthe former her liberty, or the latter permission to persecute the\nlovers afresh.\n\nShe was in this perplexity when it was agreeably ended by the presence\nof her Fairy-sister, the Queen of the Happy Island, who suddenly\nappeared in the centre of that charming group. She was no less lovely\nthan when the King, her husband, lost her. The monarch, who instantly\nrecognised her, making the respect he owed her yield to the love he\nhad cherished for her, embraced her with such transports of joy, that\nthe Queen herself was surprised at them.\n\nThe Fairy, her sister, could not imagine to what fortunate miracle she\nwas indebted for her liberty; but the royal Fairy informed her that she\nowed her happiness solely to her own courage, which had impelled her\nto hazard her own existence to preserve another's. \"You are aware,\"\nsaid she to the Fairy, \"that the daughter of our Queen was received\ninto the order at her birth; that her father was not a sublunary\nbeing, but the sage Amadabak, whose alliance is an honour to the fairy\nrace, and whose sublime knowledge invests him with much higher powers.\nNotwithstanding this, however, it was imperative for his daughter to\nbecome a serpent at the end of her first hundred years. The fatal\nperiod arrived, and our Queen, as tender a mother, and as anxious\nrespecting the fate of this dear infant as any ordinary parent could\nbe, could not resolve to expose her to the many chances of destruction\nin that shape, the misfortunes of those who had perished being but\ntoo notorious for her not to feel the greatest alarm. My wretched\nsituation depriving me of all hope of again beholding my affectionate\nhusband and my lovely daughter, I had conceived a perfect disgust for\na life which I was doomed to pass apart from them. Without the least\nhesitation, therefore, I offered to become a crawling reptile in the\nplace of the young Fairy. I saw with delight a certain, prompt, and\nhonourable mode of delivering myself from all the miseries with which\nI was overwhelmed, by death or by a glorious emancipation, which would\nrender me mistress of my own actions, and thereby enable me to rejoin\nmy husband.\n\n\"Our Queen hesitated as little to accept this offer, so gratifying to\nher maternal affection, as I did to make it. She embraced me a hundred\ntimes, and promised to restore me to liberty unconditionally, and\nre-establish me in all my privileges, if I was fortunate enough to\npass unharmed through that perilous enterprise. I did do so, and the\nfruit of my labours was enjoyed by the young Fairy, for whom I had been\nthe substitute. The success of my first trial encouraged me to make a\nsecond for my own benefit. I underwent the transformation anew, and was\nequally fortunate. This last act made me an Elder, and, consequently,\nindependent. I was not long in profiting by my liberty, and flying\nhither to rejoin a family so dear to me.\"\n\nAs soon as the Fairy had finished her narrative, the embraces were\nrenewed by her affectionate auditors. It was a charming confusion, in\nwhich each caressed the other almost without knowing what they were\nabout: beauty, particularly, enchanted at appertaining to such an\nillustrious family, and no longer fearing to degrade the Prince, her\ncousin, by causing him to form an alliance beneath him.\n\nBut although transported by the excess of her happiness, she did not\nforget the worthy man whom she had formerly believed to be her father.\nShe recalled to her fairy aunt the promise she had made to her, that\nhe and his children should have the honour of being present at her\nmarriage. She was still speaking to her on this subject when they\nsaw from the window sixteen persons on horseback, most of whom had\nhunting-horns, and appeared in considerable confusion. Their disorder\nevidently arose from their horses having ran away with them. Beauty\ninstantly recognised them as the six sons of the worthy merchant, the\nfive daughters, and their five lovers.\n\nEverybody but the Fairy was surprised at this abrupt entrance. Those\nwho made it were not less so, at finding themselves carried by the\nspeed of their unmanageable horses into a palace totally unknown to\nthem.\n\nThis is the way it happened. They were all out hunting, when their\nhorses, suddenly uniting themselves as in one squadron, galloped off\nwith them at such speed to the Palace that all their efforts to stop\nthem were perfectly useless.\n\nBeauty, thoughtless of her present dignity, hastened to receive and\nre-assure them. She embraced them all kindly. The good man himself\nnext appeared, but not in the same disorder. A horse had neighed and\nscratched at his door. He had no doubt that it came to seek him by\norder of his dear daughter. He mounted him without fear, and, perfectly\nsatisfied as to whither the steed would bear him, he was not at all\nsurprised to find himself in the court-yard of a Palace which he now\nsaw for the third time, and to which he felt convinced he had been\nconducted to witness the marriage of Beauty and the Beast.\n\nThe moment he perceived her he ran to her with open arms, blessing\nthe happy moment that presented her again to his sight, and heaping\nbenedictions on the generous Beast who had permitted him to return;\nhe looked about for him in every direction, to offer him his most\nhumble thanks for all the favours he had heaped on his family, and\nparticularly on his youngest daughter. He was vexed at not seeing him,\nand began to apprehend that his conjectures were erroneous. Still, the\npresence of all his children seemed to support the idea he had formed,\nas they would scarcely have been all assembled in that spot if some\nsolemn ceremony, such as that marriage, were not to be celebrated.\n\nThese reflections, which the good man made to himself, did not prevent\nhim from pressing Beauty fondly in his arms, and bathing her cheek with\ntears of joy. After allowing due time for this first expression of his\nfeelings, \"Enough, good man,\" said the Fairy. \"You have sufficiently\ncaressed this Princess. It is time that, ceasing to regard her as a\nfather, you should learn that that title does not appertain to you, and\nthat you must now do her homage as your sovereign. She is the Princess\nof the Happy Island, daughter of the King and Queen whom you see before\nyou. She is about to become the wife of this Prince. Here stands the\nPrince's mother, sister of the King. I am a Fairy, her friend, and\nthe aunt of Beauty. As to the Prince,\" added the Fairy, observing the\nexpression of the good man's face, \"he is better known to you than you\nimagine; but he is much altered since you last saw him. In a word, he\nwas the Beast himself.\"\n\nThe father and his sons were enchanted at these wonderful tidings,\nwhile the sisters felt a painful jealousy, but they endeavoured to\nconceal it under the mask of a gratification which deceived no one. The\nothers, however, feigned to believe them sincere. As to the lovers, who\nhad been rendered inconstant by the hope of possessing Beauty, and who\nhad only returned to their first attachments on their despairing to\nobtain her, they knew not what to think.\n\nThe merchant could not help weeping, without being able to tell\nwhether his tears were caused by the pleasure of seeing the happiness\nof Beauty, or by the sorrow of losing so perfect a daughter. His sons\nwere agitated by similar feelings. Beauty, extremely affected by this\nevidence of their love, entreated those on whom she now depended, as\nwell as the Prince, her future husband, to permit her to reward such\ntender attachment. Her entreaty testified the goodness of her heart too\nsincerely not to be listened to. They were laden with bounties, and by\npermission of the King, the Prince, and the Queen, Beauty continued to\ncall them by the tender names of father, brothers, and even sisters,\nthough she was not ignorant that the latter were as little so in heart\nas they were in blood. She desired they would all, in return, call her\nby the name they were wont to do when they believed her to be a member\nof their family. The old man and his children were appointed to offices\nin the Court of Beauty, and enjoyed the pleasure of living continually\nnear her, in a station sufficiently exalted to be generally respected.\nThe lovers of her sisters, whose passion for Beauty might easily have\nbeen revived, if they had not known it would be useless, thought\nthemselves too happy in being united to the good man's daughters, and\nbecoming allied to persons for whom Beauty retained so much goodwill.\n\nAll those she desired to be present at her wedding having arrived, the\ncelebration of it was no longer delayed. The festivities lasted many\ndays, and ended at length only because the fairy aunt of the young\nbride pointed out to them the propriety of leaving that beautiful\nretreat, and returning to their dominions, to show themselves to their\nsubjects.\n\nIt was quite time she should recall their kingdom to their recollection\nand the indispensable duties which demanded their presence. Enraptured\nwith the scenes around them, entranced by the pleasure of loving and\nexpressing their love to each other, they had entirely forgotten their\nroyal state and the cares that attend it.\n\nThe newly-married pair, indeed, proposed to the Fairy that they should\nabdicate, and resign their power into the hands of any one she should\nselect; but that wise being represented to them clearly that they were\nunder as great an obligation to fulfil the destiny which had confided\nto them the government of a nation as that nation was to preserve for\nthem an unshaken loyalty.\n\nThey yielded to these just remonstrances, but the Prince and Beauty\nstipulated that they should be allowed occasionally to visit that spot,\nand cast aside for a while the cares inseparable from their station,\nand that they should be waited on by the invisible Genii or the\nanimals who had attended them during the preceding years. They availed\nthemselves as often as possible of this liberty. Their presence seemed\nto embellish the spot. All were eager to please them. The Genii awaited\ntheir visits with impatience, and received them with joy, testifying in\na hundred ways the delight their return afforded them.\n\nThe Fairy, whose foresight neglected nothing, gave them a chariot,\ndrawn by twelve white stags with golden horns and hoofs, like those\nshe drove herself. The speed of these animals was almost greater than\nthat of thought; and, drawn by them, you could easily make the tour of\nthe world in two hours. By this means they lost no time in travelling.\nThey profited by every moment of leisure, and went frequently in this\nelegant equipage to visit their father, the King of the Happy Island,\nwho had grown so young again through the return of his Fairy Queen,\nthat he equalled in face and form the Prince, his son-in-law. He felt\nalso equally happy, being neither less enamoured nor less eager to\nprove to his wife his unceasing affection, while she, on her part,\nresponded to his love with all that tenderness which had previously\nbeen the cause of so much misfortune to her.\n\nShe had been received by her subjects with transports of joy as great\nas those of grief which her loss had occasioned them. She had always\nloved them dearly, and her will being now unfettered, she proved as\nmuch, by showering upon them for many centuries all the benefits they\ncould desire. Her power, assisted by the friendship of the Queen of\nthe Fairies, preserved the life, health, and youth of the King, her\nhusband, for ages. He only ceased to exist because no mortal can live\nfor ever.\n\nThe Queen and the Fairy, her sister, were equally attentive to Beauty,\nher husband, the Queen, his mother, the old man, and all his family,\nso that there never was known people who lived so long. The Queen,\nmother of the Prince, caused this marvellous history to be recorded in\nthe archives of her kingdom and in those of the Happy Island, that it\nmight be handed down to posterity. They also disseminated copies of it\nthroughout the Universe, so that the world at large might never cease\nto talk of the wonderful adventures of Beauty and the Beast.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[16] I have not thought it necessary to alter these initials,\nsignifying those of \"La Belle.\"\n\n[17] A South American tribe (genus _Erbus_), distinguished\nfrom all other monkeys for their gentleness and intelligence. There are\nmany varieties,--the white-fronted, the horned, the large-headed, the\ngolden-footed, the weeper, &c., and their differences in colour are\nvery considerable.\n\n[18] Perhaps an allusion to the New Theatre in the Rue des\nFosses, St. Germain. Vide page 272, note.\n\n[19] At this period, the Grand Opera, or \"Acad\u00e9mie Royal de\nMusique,\" under the direction of the celebrated Lulli, was located at\nthe Theatre du Palais Royal, which had been occupied by Moli\u00e8re from\n1660 to his death in 1673. It was opened in 1674, with the opera of\n_Alceste_, and destroyed by fire on the 6th of April, 1763.\n\n[20] Of this celebrated Fair a notice will be found in the\nnotes to the Fairy Tales of Madame d'Aulnoy, page 65. It was visited by\nthe royal family, and may be said to have been the birthplace of the\nopera comique and the vaudeville of France. It was suppressed in 1789.\n\n[21] The most celebrated was that of Brioche, who is said to\nhave been the inventor of that species of entertainment.\n\n[22] Le Sage and other equally celebrated authors wrote for\nthis theatre.\n\n[23] The Italian company invited to France by Cardinal\nMazarin, from 1645 to 1680, performed at the H\u00f4tel du Petit Bourbon,\nthe Th\u00e9\u00e2tre du Palais Royal, and the H\u00f4tel de Bourgogne, alternately\nwith the French comedians. On the removal of the latter company to the\nRue Qu\u00e9n\u00e9gaud, the Italians remained in possession of the H\u00f4tel de\nBourgogne until the performance of the _False Prude_, in 1697, gave\noffence to Madame de Maintenon, and excited the anger of Louis XIV.,\nwho suppressed the Italian troop, and ordered seals to be placed on the\ndoors of their theatre. Having obtained an audience to remonstrate, the\nKing refused to listen to them, saying, \"You have no reason to regret\nthat Cardinal Mazarin induced you to quit your country. You came to\nFrance on foot, and have gained enough to return in a carriage.\"\n\nThey returned to Paris in 1716, at the invitation of the Duke of\nOrleans, and took the title of Com\u00e9diens du R\u00e9gent.\n\n[24] After the death of Moli\u00e8re, in 1673, transferred to\nthe Rue Qu\u00e9n\u00e9gaud. In 1680, the King gave the company the title of\n\"Com\u00e9diens du Roy,\" and granted them a pension of 12,000 livres; but\nat the period at which this story was written, they had established\nthemselves, by an Order in Council, in a tennis-court in the Rue des\nFosses, St. Germain, where they erected a theatre after the designs of\nD'Orbay, in which they remained till 1770.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COUNT DE CAYLUS.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCESS MINUTE AND KING FLORIDOR.\n\n\nThere was, once upon a time, a King and Queen who died young, and left\na very fine empire to the Princess, their only daughter, who was then\nbut thirteen years of age. She imagined that she knew how to reign, and\nall her good subjects persuaded themselves into the same idea, without\nwell knowing why: however, it is a profession which is not without its\ndifficulties.\n\nThe King and Queen had at least the consolation, when dying, of leaving\nthe Princess, their daughter, under the protection of a friendly fairy.\nShe was called Mirdandenne, and was a very good woman, but she added to\nthe defect of allowing herself to be prejudiced that of obstinacy in\ncontinuing so. As for the little Princess, she was so very diminutive,\nthat they called her Minute.\n\nThus was this fine kingdom governed by prejudice and frivolity; for\nthe Princess had never been corrected in the taste which she showed\nfor trifles; and it was for her that all those little knickknacks were\ninvented, with which we have since been overwhelmed.\n\nThis Princess exhibited the grandeur of her ideas by an act which I\nwill select from a thousand such. She would not retain as General of\nher forces, nay, even exiled from her Court, a veteran distinguished\nfor the services which he had rendered the State. And why? Because he\nhad appeared in her presence with a hat bound with silver when his coat\nwas laced with gold. She thought that a man who could be guilty of such\nnegligence at Court would be also, for the same reason, very capable\nof allowing himself to be surprised by the enemy. The discernment which\nshe flattered herself as having shown in this instance, and the sound\njudgment which the Fairy distinguished in her most frivolous ideas,\nprove the existence of a delusion which would have been enough to turn\na stronger head.\n\nThere was near this great country a little kingdom, so very small that\nI hardly know what to compare it to. A Queen Mother had for a long\ntime reigned over it, in the name of Prince Floridor; but this good\nQueen died. Floridor, who was the most affectionate son possible, felt\nthis loss acutely, and always retained a feeling of gratitude for the\nobligations he was under to her. One of the greatest was a perfect\neducation--the most perfect, the most rigid, as far as concerned the\nbody, which had rendered him as robust as active; and the mildest with\nregard to his mind, to which she had given both accomplishments and\nsolidity. This young Prince was handsome and well formed. He governed\nwisely, without abusing his despotic power. His desires were well\nregulated--in a word, he would have been an amiable person in private\nlife. His subjects adored him, and the strangers who visited at the\nCourt agreed that he would have conferred happiness on the greatest\nempire. But one thing they were not aware of was, that he owed to a\ncharming Ant a great number of his advantages. She had been attached to\nhim from his infancy.\n\nAt the death of the Queen the good Ant was his sole consolation. He\ntook no single step without going previously to consult this Ant, in\na wood in the palace gardens, which she had chosen as her residence.\nHe often abandoned the Court and its pleasures to go and converse with\nher. No weather prevented his presenting himself to her, and however\nsevere might be the winter, she always came out of her anthill, which\nwas the best regulated for an hundred miles round, and gave him advice\nfull of prudence and wisdom.\n\nYou may easily have guessed that the pretty Ant of whom we speak was\na fairy. Her history, which dates back seven thousand years, will be\nfound brought down to the twenty-two thousandth year of the world at\nthe four hundred and sixtieth page of the volume for that year. It\nwould therefore have been easy for this Ant to give the King, whom she\nloved so well, several kingdoms--for Fairies dispose of them at their\nown pleasure,--but the Ant was prudent, and prudence is always guided\nby justice. It was not that she did not heartily desire the advancement\nof Floridor, but she wished him to employ no means to obtain it but\nthose that might increase the true glory with the love of which she had\ninspired his heart.\n\nThe Ant was naturally patient: she waited for an opportunity to bring\nto light the virtues of her pupil. The conduct of Minute, and the\nprejudice of Mirdandenne, soon furnished her with one. They were\ninformed that the flame of revolt was kindled in the mighty kingdom of\nMinute. When this news had been confirmed by all the newspapers, the\ngood fairy Ant desired King Floridor to set out, attended by a simple\ngroom, to assist the Queen, his neighbour. She gave him, at parting,\nnothing but a common sparrow, a little knife, which is usually called\na _jambette_,[25] and a walnut-shell. \"My gifts,\" said she, \"appear\nmean; but make yourself easy respecting them. They will be of service\nin your need, and I hope you will be satisfied with them.\" He readily\nassured her of that confidence which her former favours had rendered it\nbut just that he should place in her, and having bidden her tenderly\nfarewell, he set out on his journey; every inhabitant of his little\nkingdom regretting his departure as much as if he had been a brother, a\nson, or a bosom friend.\n\nHe arrived in the capital of Queen Minute's dominions; he found it in\na state of commotion, as they had heard that a neighbouring king was\nadvancing rapidly, followed by a terrible army. He was coming with\nthe design of seizing the kingdom. Floridor learnt that the Queen had\nretired to a delightful residence she possessed near the capital, and\nin which she had collected all sorts of brilliant gewgaws. She had,\nhowever, a motive for this retirement: she wished to consider seriously\nand decide, without being interrupted, whether the troops which the\nFairy had ordered to be levied to oppose the usurper should wear blue\nor white cockades. The Queen was, notwithstanding, at this time twenty\nyears of age. King Floridor having ascertained the road which led to\nthis country-house, proceeded there with all speed. His handsome face\nprejudiced Mirdandenne in his favour. The compliments which he paid\nto the Queen and her only increased the good opinion which his first\nappearance had inspired her with, and the offer of his services was all\nthe better received as the state was in a very embarrassed situation.\nMinute appeared to Floridor to be charming.\n\nFrom that moment the King fell desperately in love. The zeal and\nalacrity always inseparable from that passion were displayed in his\nwords and actions, and shone in his eyes; and it was with extreme\ncare he investigated the existing position of affairs. He wished to\nhave recourse to the powers of Fairyland; but the blind prejudice of\nMirdandenne had induced her long before to give her wand to Minute,\nwith the idea of amusing her, and that Princess had made such a\nprodigal use of it, that it was worn out, and had neither strength nor\nvirtue, particularly for important things. Floridor returned to the\ncapital, but found there neither fortifications nor munitions of war.\n\nMeanwhile the invader advanced nearer and nearer. Floridor saw only a\nrival in the person of the hostile king; and finding no other resource,\nhe was obliged to propose to the Queen to take flight, offering her\nwith pride an asylum in his dominions. Prudence suggested to him a line\nof conduct which his courage condemned; but it was necessary to save\nan unhappy sovereign, and he only made this proposition on condition\nof his being allowed to return and expose himself to every danger, and\nuse every effort to restore to the Queen a throne which so legitimately\nbelonged to her, the moment he had placed her person in safety in his\nlittle kingdom. Mirdandenne, convinced by all the King represented to\nher, accepted the proposition; but the Queen only consented to depart\nwhen they promised her that the horse she was to ride should have a\nrose-coloured harness, and Floridor had agreed to present her with\nthe sparrow which the fairy Ant had given him on his leaving her. The\nbird was soon given, but though the departure was urgent, they had to\nwait till a harness such as the Queen wished for could be procured\nfrom the city. It came at length, and Floridor and Minute, with no\nother suite but Mirdandenne, took the road to the King's dominions.\nFloridor was enchanted at being allowed to conduct Minute to his own\nkingdom, and at believing himself to be useful to her he adored. To be\nin love and a traveller are two things which make people exceedingly\ntalkative. Floridor, in announcing the limited extent of his states,\nat which he sometimes blushed, could not refrain from speaking of the\nobligations he owed to the good Ant. When he came, however, to the\ndetails of their parting, the walnut, the little knife, and the sparrow\nappeared to the Queen very singular presents. She was very anxious to\nsee the walnut: the King gave it to her without any scruples. As soon\nas it was in her hand, she cried, \"Heavens, what do I hear!\" She put\nher ear to it with the utmost attention, and then said, with surprise\nmingled with curiosity, \"I hear very distinctly little voices of men,\nneighing of horses, trumpets, in short, a singular murmur. This is\nthe prettiest thing in the world!\" she exclaimed. While the King was\nhimself occupied by that which amused her whom he loved, he perceived\nthe scouts of the revolted army close upon them, and consequently ready\nto take them prisoners. At this perilous moment, by an involuntary\nmovement, he broke the walnut, and out of it he saw issue thirty\nthousand effective men, horse, foot, and dragoons,[26] with artillery\nand all the necessary munitions of war. He placed himself at their\nhead, and showing a bold front to the enemy, he made, without ever\nstriking a blow, the most beautiful retreat in the world; he took\npossession in this way of the mountains he found on his road, and\nsaved the Queen from the hands of her rebellious subjects. After this\nfine military man\u0153uvre, which was not accomplished without much\nfatigue, and alarm at the danger the Queen had incurred, they halted\nseveral days on the mountain; but as all the country was up in arms,\nthey perceived, on recommencing their march, another army, much more\nnumerous than that which they had escaped, and which it would have been\nthe height of rashness to give battle to. In this cruel situation,\nthe Queen asked for the little knife which the Ant had given to him,\nto use for some trifling purpose; but finding that it did not cut to\nher fancy, she threw it away, saying, \"There's a pleasant knife!\" The\nmoment it touched the ground it made a considerable hole in it. The\nKing was struck with the talent of his _jambette_, and immediately cut\nwith it deep entrenchments all round the mountain, which rendered their\nposition impregnable.\n\nWhen this operation was finished, which only occupied him the time\nnecessary to make the circuit, the sparrow he had presented to Minute\ntook wing, and flew to the summit of the mountain; then flapping its\nwings, it cried, in a terrible voice, \"Leave me alone to deal with\nthem; you are about to see a fine game. Let all descend the mountain,\nmarch upon the enemy, and fear nothing.\" He was instantly obeyed, and\nthe sparrow raised the mountain as easily as if it had been a straw,\nand traversing the air with it, he let it fall upon the army of the\nenemy, crushing, no doubt, the greater part of them; the rest took\nflight and left the passage free. The King, who was solely occupied\nwith the desire of seeing the Queen in safety, was anxious to put the\nhorses to their speed; but as the march of an army is necessarily\nslow, he would have been glad if it had re-entered the walnut-shell.\nHardly had he formed the wish when it actually did so. He put it in\nhis pocket, and they arrived in the little kingdom, where the good Ant\nreceived them with every mark of sincere friendship.\n\nWhen Floridor had made every arrangement for the accommodation of\nMinute, and was satisfied that she could want for nothing in the\npalace, he began to think of his departure, and he did so more\ncheerfully as the good Ant assured him of her attention to all that\nconcerned the Queen. During the journey he had lately performed, and\nthe short time he had passed in his own dominions, he had taken the\nopportunity of declaring his passion to Minute, which she had been kind\nenough to approve. At length he was obliged to leave her; their adieus\nwere tender, and Floridor set out with no other assistance but that\nof a letter from Minute, addressed to her good and faithful subjects,\nin which she required them to obey the commands of King Floridor\nimplicitly.\n\nThe good Ant neither gave him the walnut nor the little knife which\nhe had returned to her when he came back: the Queen only begged him\nto accept from her hand the sparrow which he had given her, praying\nthat he would always carry it about with him, as well as a scarf of\n_nonpareille_[27] which she had herself made for him. The King followed\nexactly the same road that he had taken in conducting the Queen, not\nonly because lovers are gratified by seeing again the places which are\nassociated in their memories with those whom they love, but because it\nwas also the shortest cut.\n\nWhen he was near the transplanted mountain, the sparrow, rising in\nthe air, took it up with the same facility as before, and carried it\nback to the spot which it had formerly occupied. The sparrow then in\nthat terrible voice which he knew how to assume when he wished, said to\nthose whom he found shut up under the mountain, \"Be faithful to Minute,\nand do what King Floridor shall command you in her name.\" This singular\nsparrow then disappeared.\n\nThe mountain, it seems, was hollow, so those who had found themselves\nenclosed in it were as if under a bell; they had wanted for nothing\nduring the time of their imprisonment; all the soldiers and officers\nwho saw the light of day again with the utmost pleasure, ran in crowds\nto Floridor, whose handsome countenance interested them, and looking\nupon him as a demi-god, they were ready to worship him. The King,\nmoved by their obedience and the new vows of fidelity to the lawful\nQueen, which they took at his hands, received their respects but\nnot their adoration, after having shown them the letter with which\nhe was charged. He made the army pass in review, and chose from it\nfifty thousand of the finest men, and of those to whose devotion a\ngeneral's success is mostly due. He established in his new army a very\nstrict discipline, of which he was both the author and example; and it\nwas with these troops that he became invincible--that he defied the\ncountless forces of the usurper, whom he slew with his own hand in one\nof the last battles, and whose death restored to Minute a kingdom which\nshe had entirely lost. Floridor marched through all the provinces of\nthis great state, and re-established the authority of Minute, whom he\nthen hastened to rejoin.\n\nBut what a change did he find in the character and mind of this lovely\nQueen? The counsels of the good Ant, and, above all, Love, and the wish\nto please and be worthy of Floridor, had completely corrected her only\nfault. She was ashamed of having always done little things with great\nassistance, whilst her lover had done such great things with so little.\n\nThey married, and lived happily ever after.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[25] A clasp or folding-knife.\n\n[26] \"_Tant Cavalerie, infanterie que dragons_\" \"Horse,\nfoot, and dragoons,\" was, within my recollection, a familiar phrase\nexpressive of any overpowering force or number. Dragoons were first\nraised in France by the Marshal de Brisac in 1600, and being trained to\nfight both on foot and horseback, were frequently in the seventeenth\ncentury thus distinguished from the general cavalry and infantry.\n\n[27] Narrow ribbon used to embroider silk, satin, or velvet\nwith, a favourite work of ladies in the last century; but, looking\nat the character of Minute, it is probable the author meant a scarf\ncomposed of nothing but the ribbon itself.\n\n\n\n\nTHE IMPOSSIBLE ENCHANTMENT.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a King who was very much beloved by his\nsubjects, and who was equally fond of them. This Monarch had a great\nrepugnance to marriage, and what was still more astonishing, love\nhad never made the slightest impression on his heart. His subjects,\nhowever, pressed so strongly upon him the necessity of providing for\nthe succession to the throne, that the good King finally consented to\ntheir request. But as no woman he had as yet seen, had awakened in him\nthe faintest inclination to marry her, he resolved to seek in foreign\nlands that which his own had failed to present him with, and despite\nthe severe and satirical remarks of all his countrywomen, both handsome\nand ugly, he set out on his travels, after having duly provided for\nthe maintenance of order and tranquillity in his dominions. He would\ntake no one with him but a single equerry, a very sensible man, but not\nparticularly brilliant. Such companions are not always the worst upon a\njourney.\n\nThe King roamed in vain through several kingdoms, using all his best\nendeavours to fall in love; but his time not being come, he retraced\nhis road to his own dominions, after two years' absence and fatigue, in\nthe same state of indifference as he left them.\n\n  [Illustration: Impossible Enchantment.--P. 337.]\n\nIt happened, however, that in traversing a forest he heard a most\nfearful squalling of cats. The worthy equerry did not know what to\nthink of such a commencement of an adventure. All the stories of\nsorcerers that he had ever seen came into his head. As to the King,\nhe was unmoved by it. Courage and curiosity combined to induce him\nto wait and see what would follow this strange and disagreeable\ninterruption. The noise coming nearer and nearer, they at length saw\nan hundred Spanish cats rush by them through the Forest. You might\nhave covered them all with a cloak, so well did they run together and\nso perfectly were they on the scent. They were closely followed by\ntwo of the largest monkeys that ever were seen. They were dressed in\namaranth-coloured coats. Their boots were the prettiest and best made\nin the world. They were mounted on two superb English bull-dogs, and\nrode at full speed, blowing little toy-trumpets. The King, surprised at\nsuch a sight, gazed at them with great attention, when a score of tiny\ndwarfs appeared, some mounted on lynxes and leading relays of them,\nothers on foot with cats in couples. They were dressed in amaranth like\nthe huntsmen, which colour seemed to be the livery of the equipage. A\nmoment afterwards he perceived a young female as remarkable for her\nbeauty as for the proud air with which she rode a large tiger, whose\npaces were admirable.\n\nShe passed the King full gallop, without stopping or even saluting him;\nbut though she hardly looked at him, he was enchanted with her, and his\nheart was gone like a flash of lightning.\n\nAll in agitation, he perceived a dwarf who had lagged behind the rest\nof the company. He addressed him with all that eagerness which the\ncuriosity of love to obtain some information respecting the object of\nits admiration would naturally occasion. The dwarf informed him that\nthe lady he had just seen was the Princess Mutine, daughter of King\nPrudent, in whose dominions they were at that moment. He told him,\nalso, that the Princess was exceedingly fond of the chase, and that the\npack he had seen pass was what she hunted rabbits with. The King asked\nnothing further, except the nearest road to the Court of King Prudent.\nThe dwarf pointed it out to him, and spurred on his lynx to rejoin the\nhunt, and the King, with the impatience of a new-born passion, gave the\nspurs to his horse, and in less than two hours found himself in the\ncapital of King Prudent's dominions. He was presented to the King and\nQueen, who received him with open arms, the more graciously on learning\nhis name and that of his empire.\n\nThe beautiful Mutine returned from the chase shortly after this\npresentation. Hearing that the Princess had killed two rabbits, he\nventured to compliment her on so fine a day's sport, but the Princess\nmade no reply. He was rather surprised at her silence, but he was still\nmore so when he observed that during supper she was equally taciturn.\nHe noticed only that there were moments when she appeared about to\nsay something, but that either King Prudent or the Queen (who never\ndrank at the same time) immediately commenced speaking. This silence,\nhowever, did not prevent the increase of his passion for Mutine. The\nKing retired to the handsome apartment which had been assigned to him,\nand his worthy Equerry did not appear overjoyed when he found his royal\nmaster so deeply in love. He did not even conceal from him that he was\nsorry for it. \"And why are you sorry?\" inquired the King. \"The Princess\nis so beautiful; surely she is all I could desire.\" \"She is beautiful,\nI admit,\" replied the Equerry. \"But to be happy, something is required\nbesides beauty. Pardon me, sire, but there is something harsh in the\nexpression of her features.\" \"It is pride,\" said the King, \"and very\nbecoming in so beautiful a woman.\" \"Pride or ill-nature, whichever you\nplease; but the taste she exhibits in her amusements, and her choice\nof so many mischievous animals, are to my mind convincing proofs of\na cruel disposition. Moreover, the care that is taken to prevent her\nspeaking is to me a very suspicious circumstance. The King, her father,\nis not called Prudent for nothing. I don't fancy even her own name of\nMutine. It appears to me only a softening down or a diminutive of the\nappellation which would truly be applied to her from the impression she\nhas made on me. For you know better than I do, that it is too common a\npractice to gloss over the faults of persons of her rank.\"\n\nThe observations of the worthy Equerry were sensible enough, but\nas objections only increase love in the hearts of all men, and\nparticularly in those of kings, who dislike being contradicted, this\nmonarch the very next morning demanded the hand of the Princess\nin marriage. As the previous indifference of the King had become\nnotorious, the triumph of the charms of Mutine was complete. Her\nhand was accorded to him--but on two conditions. The first, that the\nmarriage should take place the very next morning; the second, that\nhe should not speak to the Princess until she was his wife. On this\noccasion the pretext for her silence was a solemn vow she had taken\nin consequence of--the first thing that came into their heads: and\nthe enamoured King only saw in this circumstance the proof of a truly\nreligious feeling. Those great precautions formed a new theme for the\narguments of the Equerry, but they made no more impression than the\nformer did. The King, after listening to them, closed the conversation\nby saying, \"It has cost me a great deal of trouble to fall in love.\nI have done so at last. What the deuce wouldst thou have? I mean to\nremain in love.\"\n\nThe rest of that day and all the following was passed in dancing and\nfeasting. The Princess was present, and took her part in all the\nentertainments without uttering a single word, and the first he heard\nher pronounce was the fatal \"Yes,\" which bound her to him for life. As\nsoon as she was married she threw off all restraint, and the first day\ndid not pass without her having very liberally distributed a volley\nof abuse and a host of impertinences amongst her maids of honour. In\nshort, the mildest expressions she made use of in return for the most\nparticular services were characterized by rudeness and ill-temper. Even\nthe King, her husband, was not exempted from this sort of language; but\nas he was very much in love, and, moreover, a good-natured man, he bore\nit all patiently.\n\nA few days after their marriage the newly-wedded pair took the road to\ntheir own kingdom, and Mutine's departure was not regretted by any one\nin her Father's. The cordial reception King Prudent had always given\nto foreigners had no other motive than the hope of such a love as his\ndaughter's charms had succeeded in inspiring--a passion which was too\nstrong to pause for a better acquaintance with her mind and character.\n\nThe worthy Equerry had had too much reason for his remonstrances, and\nthe King perceived it too late. All the time the new Queen was on the\nroad she filled the hearts of her attendants with grief, anger, and\ndespair. But once arrived in her kingdom, her ill-temper and ill-nature\nwere redoubled. By the time she had been a month on her throne her\nreputation was perfect. She was acknowledged unanimously as the worst\nQueen in the world.\n\nOne day that she was taking an airing on horseback in a wood near the\nPalace, she perceived an old woman walking in the high road. She was\nvery simply dressed. This good woman having made her the best curtsey\nshe could, continued her route; but the Queen, who was only waiting\nfor an occasion to give vent to her ill-humour, bade one of her pages\nrun after the old woman, and bring her back. As soon as she was in\nher presence she said, \"Thou art very impertinent to make me no lower\na curtsey! Dost thou not know I am the Queen? I am more than half\ninclined to order my people to give thee an hundred lashes with their\nstirrup-leathers.\" \"Madam,\" said the old woman, \"I never knew exactly\nwhat difference there was in curtseys. It is clear I had no intention\nof being disrespectful.\" \"How!\" exclaimed the Queen; \"does she dare to\nanswer me? Tie her instantly to the tail of my horse. I will take her\nwith speed to the best dancing-master in the city, and he shall teach\nher how to make me a curtsey.\"\n\nThe old woman begged for mercy whilst they tied her, but in vain. She\neven boasted of the protection of the Fairies. The Queen heeded the\nwarning as little as the prayer. \"I care for them as little as I do for\nthee,\" she exclaimed, \"and wert thou even thyself a Fairy, I would serve\nthee the same way.\"\n\nThe old woman suffered herself patiently to be fastened to the tail of\nthe horse; but the instant the Queen would have given him the spur, he\nbecame motionless. In vain she endeavoured to stick the rowels into his\nside. He had become a horse of bronze. The cords which fastened the\nold woman changed at the same moment to garlands of flowers, and the\nold woman herself suddenly appeared eight feet high. Then fixing on\nMutine her fiery and disdainful eyes, she said to her, \"Wicked woman!\nunworthy of the royal title thou bearest, I desired to judge myself if\nthou didst deserve the bad character they give thee in the world. I am\nsatisfied thou dost, and thou shalt soon see whether the fairies are as\nlittle to be feared as thou fanciest.\" So saying, the Fairy Paisible\n(for it was she herself) whistled through her fingers, and a chariot\nwas seen advancing, drawn by six of the most beautiful ostriches in the\nworld, and in this chariot they recognised the Fairy Grave, looking\nmore grave even than her name. She was at that time the Elder of the\nFairies, and presided in all cases affecting the Fairy community. Her\nescort was composed of a dozen other Fairies, mounted on crop-tailed\ndragons. Notwithstanding her astonishment at the appearance of the\nFairies, Queen Mutine retained the proud and malevolent expression\nwhich was so natural to her.\n\nWhen this brilliant company had descended and dismounted, the Fairy\nPaisible related her adventure to them. The Fairy Grave, who was very\nsevere in the execution of her office, approved of Paisible's conduct,\nand then gave it as her opinion that the Queen should be transformed\ninto the same metal as her horse; but the Fairy Paisible objected to\nthis, and with unequalled generosity, exerted herself to moderate all\nthe rigorous measures that were suggested for the punishment of the\nQueen.\n\nAt length, thanks to the kind Fairy, she was condemned only to be her\nslave until she was confined, for I had forgotten to tell you that she\nwas expecting to become a mother. This sentence, which was pronounced\nin full court, decreed that, on her recovery, the Queen should be\npermitted to return to her husband, and that the infant she had given\nbirth to should remain the slave of the Fairy in her place.\n\nThey were polite enough to announce to the King the sentence that had\nbeen passed on his wife. He was compelled to give his assent to it.\nWhat could the worthy Prince have done, supposing he had objected?\n\nAfter this act of justice, the Fairies returned each one to her own\naffairs. Paisible waited an instant the arrival of her equipage, which\nshe had sent for. It was a little car made of various coloured bugles,\ndrawn by six hinds, white as snow, with caparisons of green satin,\nembroidered with gold. One touch of her wand changed the Queen's dress\ninto the habit of a slave. In this attire she was made to mount an\nobstinate mule, and to follow, at a hard trot, the car of the Fairy.\n\nAfter an hour's jolting, the Queen arrived at Paisible's mansion. As\nyou may easily believe, she was in great affliction, but her pride\nprevented her from shedding a single tear. The Fairy sent her to work\nin the kitchen, after giving her the name of Furieuse, that of Mutine\nbeing too gentle for the wickedness she was inclined to.\n\n\"Furieuse,\" said the Fairy Paisible, \"I have saved your life, and\nperhaps conscience may hereafter reproach me for it. I will not give\nyou any heavy work to do, out of compassion for the unborn infant, who\nyou are aware is to become my slave. I will, therefore, remove you from\nthe kitchen, and set you only the task of sweeping my apartment, and\ncombing my little dog Christine.\" Furieuse knew there was no opposition\nto be made to these commands. She took, therefore, the sensible course\nof doing exactly as she was bid as long as she was able.\n\nAfter some time, she gave birth to a Princess, as lovely as day; and\nwhen her health was re-established, the Fairy lectured her severely\nrespecting her past life, exacted from her a promise to behave better\nin future, and sent her back to the King her husband. One may imagine,\nfrom the kindness shown by the Fairy Paisible to so wicked a woman,\nwhat affectionate care she would take of the young Princess who was\nleft in her hands. She soon perfectly doated on her, and determined\nto have her endowed by two fairies besides herself. She was a long\ntime deciding on the two godmothers she should select, for she feared\nthat the resentment they all felt against the mother might be extended\nto the child. At length, she thought that the Fairies Divertisante\nand Eveill\u00e9e were amongst the best natured of them, and invited them\naccordingly. They arrived in a Berlin,[28] made of Italian flowers,\ndrawn by six grey ponies with beautiful flame-coloured manes.\nEveill\u00e9e's robe was composed of parrots' feathers, and her hair\nwas dressed en chien fou.[29] The Fairy Divertisante had a robe of\ncameleon's skin, which made her appear alternately in every imaginable\ncolour.\n\nPaisible gave them both a capital reception, and to insure their good\noffices, I have been confidently informed, that (during the excellent\nsupper they sat down to) she managed to make them just merry enough\nwith wine. Having taken this wise precaution, she had the lovely infant\nbrought to them. It was in a cradle of rock crystal, and swathed in\nclothes of scarlet embroidered with gold; but its beauty was an hundred\ntimes more brilliant than its apparel.\n\nThe young Princess smiled at the Fairies, and made little attempts to\nkiss them, which so pleased them that they determined to place her, as\nfar as it laid in their power, beyond the reach of the anger of their\nElders. They began by giving her the name of Galantine.\n\nThe Fairy Paisible then said to them, \"You know that the punishments\nwe Fairies usually inflict, consist in changing beauty to ugliness,\nintellect to imbecility, and in many cases resorting to transformation.\nNow, as it is impossible for us to endow her with more than one gift\neach, my advice is that one of you should bestow upon her beauty,\nthe other intelligence, and that I, for my part, should render it\nimpossible for any one to change her form.\"\n\nThis advice was adopted, and followed upon the spot. As soon as\nGalantine was endowed, the two Fairies took their leave, and Paisible\ngave all her attention to the education of the little Princess. Never\nwas such attention so well rewarded, for at four years of age her grace\nand beauty had already begun to make a noise in the world. In fact,\nthey made too much noise, for the circumstances of the case having been\nreported to the Council of Fairies, Paisible, one morning, saw the\nFairy Grave enter the court-yard of the Palace, mounted on a lion. She\nwore a long robe, very full, and consequently very much plaited, of\nsky-blue colour, and on her head a square cap of gold brocade.\n\nPaisible recognised her with as much anxiety as vexation, for her\ndress and the animal she rode proved that she came to promulgate some\ndecree: but when she perceived that she was followed by the Fairy\nR\u00e8veuse, mounted on a unicorn, and dressed in black morocco, faced\nwith changeable taffeta, and wearing also a square cap, she no longer\ndoubted that this visit had some very serious object.\n\nIn short, Fairy Grave, opening the business, said to her, \"I am much\nsurprised at the conduct you have pursued towards Mutine. It is in\nthe name of the whole body of Fairies, whom she has insulted, that I\ncome to reprimand you. You were at liberty to forgive her offences\nto yourself, but you had no right to pardon her for those which she\nhad committed against the entire community. Nevertheless, you treated\nher with mildness and kindness during the time she resided with you.\nI therefore come to do strict justice, and punish an innocent child\nfor the acts of a guilty mother. You have endowed her with beauty\nand intelligence, and you have also raised an obstacle against her\ntransformation; but though I cannot deprive her of the gifts you have\nbestowed upon her, I know how to prevent her deriving any advantage\nfrom them as long as she lives. She shall never be able to get out of\nan enchanted prison which I am about to build for her, until she shall\nfind herself in the arms of a lover who is beloved by her. It is my\nbusiness to take care that such an event shall never occur.\"\n\nThe enchantment consisted of a tower of great height and size, built of\nshells of all colours, in the middle of the sea. On the lowest floor\nthere was a great bath-room, into which the water could be admitted\nat pleasure. The bath was surrounded by steps and slabs, on which you\ncould walk with dry feet. The first floor was devoted to the apartment\nof the Princess, and it was really a magnificent affair. The second was\ndivided into several rooms. In one you saw a fine library, in another\na wardrobe full of beautiful linen and superb dresses for all ages,\neach more splendid than the other. A third was appropriated to music, a\nfourth was entirely filled with the most agreeable wines and liqueurs,\nand in the last (which was the largest of all), nothing was to be seen\nbut wet and dry sweetmeats, and preserves of every description, and all\nsorts of pies and patties, which by the power of the enchantment were\nkept always as warm as they were when first taken out of the oven. The\ntower was terminated by a platform on which there was a garden laid out\nfull of the finest flowers, which were renewed and succeeded each other\nunceasingly. In this garden was also seen a fruit tree of each sort, on\nwhich as fast as you gathered one fruit another appeared in its place.\nThis lovely spot was ornamented by green arbours, rendered delicious by\nthe shade and fragrance of the flowering shrubs that formed them, and\nthe songs of the thousand birds that frequented them.\n\nWhen the Fairies had placed Galantine in the tower, with a governess\nnamed Bonnette, they remounted the whale that had taken them there,\nand retiring a certain distance from this grand edifice, Fairy Grave,\nby a tap of her wand on the water, assembled two thousand of the most\nferocious sharks[30] in the ocean, and ordered them to keep strict\nwatch around the tower, and tear in pieces every mortal who should be\nrash enough to approach it; but as ships are not much afraid of sharks,\nshe also sent for a quantity of remoras,[31] and commanded them to form\nan advanced guard, and stop, without exception, every vessel that by\ndesign or accident shaped its course in that direction.\n\nFairy Grave felt so fatigued with having done so much in so short a\ntime, that she requested Fairy R\u00e8veuse to fly to the top of the tower\nand enchant the air about it so powerfully and completely that not\neven a bird should be able to go near it. The Fairy obeyed; but as\nshe was an exceedingly absent being, she forgot some of the necessary\nceremonies, and made some few mistakes. If the enchantment of the\nwater had not been more perfect than that of the air, the safe keeping\nof Galantine, which they took so much trouble about, would have been\ngreatly endangered by sea.\n\nThe good governess occupied every instant of her time in the proper\neducation of Galantine; and although she looked upon all the\naccomplishments that the Princess acquired as completely thrown away\non one who would never have an opportunity of displaying them to the\nworld, she neglected nothing that could tend to the improvement of her\nmind and the cultivation of her talents, in all imaginable arts and\nsciences.\n\nWhen the Princess had attained the age of twelve she appeared to the\ngoverness a perfect prodigy. All the fine qualities she discovered in\nher caused her deeply to deplore the sad fate imposed on so amiable a\nperson. Galantine, who knew nothing about herself, perceiving her one\nday more melancholy than usual, entreated to know the reason of it so\nurgently, that Bonnette related to her all her own history and that of\nthe Queen her mother.\n\n\nGalantine was thunderstruck at this recital. \"I had never before,\"\nshe exclaimed, \"reflected on my position. I fancied that when I was\nold enough I should leave this retreat: but if I am condemned never\nto do so, of what value is life to me? Better surely would it be for\nme to die.\" The Princess, after this burst of grief, remained silent\nfor some time, then added, \"You say, my dear Bonnette, that the spell\nwhich is cast upon me cannot be broken until I shall love some one\nwho loves me. Is this so difficult a matter? I don't know what it\nmay be, but I would endure anything that could assist to release me\nfrom this prison.\" Bonnette could not help smiling at the simplicity\nof Galantine, and then answered, \"To love and to be beloved, it is\nnecessary that some young Prince should enter this tower to see and\nbe seen by you, and that he should be one who intends to marry you,\notherwise his appearance here would not be correct; now you know that\nit is not possible for any man to approach these walls. Have I not told\nyou all the precautions that have been taken by sea and by sky. You\nmust, therefore, my dear Galantine, make up your mind to pass your days\nin this solitude.\"\n\nThis conversation produced a great change in the Princess. No\namusements had charms for her any longer. Her melancholy became\nexcessive. She passed her days in weeping and in devising plans to\nescape from the tower.\n\nOne day that the Princess was sitting in her balcony, she saw an\nextraordinary figure emerge from the water. She called Bonnette\nimmediately to come and observe it. It had the appearance of a man\nwith a bluish countenance, and ill-curled hair of a sea-green colour.\nHe approached the tower, and the sharks made no opposition to his\nprogress. \"In my opinion,\" said the Governess, \"it is a Mer-man.\" \"A\nman do you say,\" exclaimed Galantine; \"let us go down to the gate of\nthe tower, we shall see him better there.\" As soon as they reached the\ngate, the Mer-man stopped to gaze on the Princess, and at her sight\nmade several signs of admiration. He said something to her in a very\nhoarse voice; but as he found his language was not understood, he had\nrecourse again to signs. He had in his hand a little rush-basket filled\nwith the rarest shells. He presented it to the Princess, who took it,\nand in her turn made signs to thank him; but as night was coming on\nshe retired, and the Mer-man plunged under water.\n\nAs soon as Galantine had reached her own apartment, she said to her\nGoverness, sorrowfully, \"I think that man frightful. Why did the\nvillainous sharks who guard me allow such an ugly man to pass them,\nin preference to one who was better looking? for I suppose they are\nnot all like him.\" \"Not any like him, I should say,\" replied Bonnette;\n\"and as to the sharks allowing him to pass, I presume that, being\ninhabitants of the same element, they do not harm each other. They may\neven be his relations, or at least friends.\"\n\nA few days after this first adventure, Bonnette and Galantine were\nattracted to one of the windows of the tower by what appeared to them\na singular sort of music, and which indeed proved to be so. There was\nthe same Mer-man that they had already seen, who, always up to his\nwaist in the water, and his head covered with reeds, blew with all his\nmight a species of conch-shell, the sound of which was something like\nthat of our ancient goat's horns. The Princess again descended to the\ngate of the tower, and courteously accepted the coral and other marine\ncuriosities which he presented to her. After this second visit, he came\nevery day under the windows of the Princess, diving and grimacing, or\nplaying on the charming instrument I have described to you. Galantine\ncontented herself with curtseying to him in the balcony; but no longer\ncame down-stairs, notwithstanding the signs by which the Mer-man\nimplored her.\n\nSome days afterwards, the Princess saw him appear in company with\nanother of his species of the other sex. Her hair was dressed with much\ntaste, and her voice was charming.\n\nThis addition to the company induced Galantine and Bonnette to descend\nagain to the gate of the tower. They were much surprised when the lady\n(whom they now saw for the first time) after having tried several\nlanguages, spoke to them in their own, and complimented Galantine on\nher beauty. She perceived that the basement story, or bath-room, of\nwhich I have spoken, was open and full of water. \"Here,\" said she,\n\"is a place made expressly for our reception; for it is impossible\nfor us to live entirely out of our element.\" She immediately entered,\nand reclined as one does in a bath, and her brother (for she was the\nsister of the Mer-man) placed himself beside her in a similar attitude.\nThe Princess and her governess sat down on the steps which were\ncontinued round the apartment.\n\n\"I suspect, madam,\" said the Syren, \"that you have abandoned your\nresidence on the earth in consequence of being beset by crowds of\nlovers. If that be really the cause of your retirement, you will not\nobtain your object here; for my brother is already dying for love of\nyou, and when the inhabitants of our great city have perceived you, he\nwill certainly have them all for his rivals.\"\n\nThe brother, who imagined she was speaking of him, at that moment made\nsigns of assent with his head and his hands, and continued to do so\nwhen she was not speaking of him at all.\n\nThe Syren expressed to her the regret of her brother at not being able\nto make himself understood. \"I am his interpreter,\" she continued,\n\"thanks to the languages which I was taught by a fairy.\" \"You have\nfairies, then, also amongst you?\" said Galantine, accompanying the\nquestion with a heavy sigh. \"Yes, madam,\" replied the Syren, \"we have\na few; but, if I am not deceived, you have suffered some injuries from\nthose who inhabit the earth? At least the sigh which escaped you would\njustify me in so believing.\" The Princess, who had not been enjoined\nsecresy on the subject, recounted to the Syren all that Bonnette had\ntold her.\n\n\"You are much to be pitied,\" said the Syren, when Galantine had\nfinished her story. \"Nevertheless your misfortunes may not be without\na remedy; but it is time to terminate my first visit.\" The Princess,\ndelighted at the hope she held out to her, said a thousand kind things\nto her, and they separated with a promise to see one another frequently.\n\nThe Princess appeared charmed with this adventure. Independently of\nthe hope the Syren had inspired her with, it was much to have found\nsome one with whom it was possible to enjoy a little society. \"We shall\nmake the acquaintance,\" said she to her governess, \"of several of\nthese Mer-men, and they may not all be as hideous as the first we have\nseen. At any rate we shall not be always alone.\" \"Good heavens,\" said\nBonnette; \"how easily young people do flatter themselves. I tell you\nI am afraid of those folks. But what say you,\" continued she, \"to the\nhandsome lover of whom you have made a conquest?\" \"I say that I shall\nnever love him,\" replied the Princess, \"and that he is exceedingly\ndisagreeable to me; but,\" pursued she, \"I would fain discover if he\ncannot, by means of his relative the Fairy Marine, contrive to do\nme some service.\" \"I repeat to you,\" insisted Bonnette, \"that those\nodd-coloured faces and great fish-tails are alarming.\" But Galantine\nbeing younger, was consequently bolder and less prudent.\n\nThe Syren came to see her several times, and always talked to her of\nher brother's affection; the Princess, constantly occupied by her ideas\nof escaping from prison, encouraged the conversation, and at length\ninduced the Syren to promise she would bring the Fairy Marine to pay\nher an early visit, and that she would instruct her what to do.\n\nThe Fairy came with the Syren the very next morning; the Princess\nreceived her as her liberator. Some short time after her arrival she\nrequested Galantine to show her over the Tower, and to take a turn with\nher in the garden, for (with the assistance of two crutches) she could\nmanage to walk about, and as she was a Fairy, she was able to remain\nout of the water as long as she pleased, only it was necessary for her\nto moisten her forehead occasionally, for which purpose she always\ncarried a little silver fountain suspended from her girdle.\n\nGalantine acceded to the request of the Fairy, and Bonnette remained in\nthe hall to entertain the rest of the company. When the Fairy and the\nPrincess had entered the garden, the former said, \"Let us lose no time.\nLet us see if there is anything I can do to serve you.\" Galantine told\nher all her history, not omitting the smallest details; and the Fairy\nthen said to her, \"I can do nothing for you, my dear Princess, on the\nland, my power does not extend beyond my own element; but you have a\nresource, and one in which I can assist you with all the art I possess.\nIf you will do Gluatin the honour to marry him, an honour which he most\nardently aspires to, you can come and live with us. I will teach you\nin a moment to dive and to swim as well as we do. I will harden your\nskin without blemishing its whiteness, and so prepare it, that the\ncoldness of the water, in lieu of inconveniencing you, shall give you\nthe greatest pleasure. My cousin,\" added she, \"is, as you may suppose,\none of the best matches in the ocean, and I will do so much for him in\nconsideration of your alliance that nothing shall have ever equalled\nyour mutual happiness.\"\n\nThe Fairy spoke with so much fervour, that the Princess hesitated\nto refuse, and requested a few days to consider. As they were about\nto rejoin the company, they perceived a vessel in the distance. The\nPrincess had never before seen one so distinctly, as none had ever\nventured to come so near the Tower. They could easily distinguish\non the deck of this ship a young man reclining under a magnificent\npavilion, and who appeared to be very attentively surveying the Tower\nby means of a telescope; but the distance was still too great for them\nto see anything more.\n\nThe vessel beginning to recede, Galantine and the Fairy returned to the\ncompany, the latter much pleased at the progress of her negotiation.\nShe told the Princess, on leaving her, that she should shortly come\nagain to know her answer.\n\nAs soon as the Fairy was gone, Galantine related to her governess\nall that had passed between them. She was very sorry to see that her\npupil was half inclined to yield to the Fairy's persuasions. She was\ndreadfully afraid of being compelled in her declining years to become\nan old Syren herself. To avert all the misfortunes she foresaw, she hit\nupon the following idea. As she could paint miniatures to perfection,\nshe set to work, and by the next morning produced one of a young man\nwith fair hair, dressed in large curls, the finest complexion in\nthe world, blue eyes, and his nose slightly _retrouss\u00e9_; in fact,\npresenting an assemblage of all the features that could compose a\ncharming portrait, and we shall see in the end that some supernatural\npower must have assisted her in a work which she had undertaken solely\nto show Galantine the difference between a man of the world and her\nmarine adorer, and so dissuade her from a marriage which was not at all\nto her taste.\n\nWhen she presented her work to her, the Princess was struck with\nadmiration, and asked her if it were possible that any man on earth\ncould resemble that portrait. Bonnette assured her that there were many\nsuch, and some even handsomer. \"I can scarcely believe it,\" replied\nGalantine, \"but alas, neither the original of this portrait, nor any\none like him, can ever be my husband. They will never see me, nor I\nthem as long as I live. Oh, how miserable is my fate!\"\n\nNevertheless, Galantine passed the whole day in gazing on this\nminiature. It had the effect Bonnette anticipated. It ruined Gluatin's\naffairs, which had previously been put in pretty good train; but the\ngoverness almost repented having painted so handsome a face, as the\nPrincess gave up eating and drinking in order to have more time to gaze\nupon it. If ever a portrait was capable of inspiring a real passion, it\nwas assuredly in this case and under the circumstances here related.\n\nThe Fairy Marine returned a few days after the visit we have described,\nto ascertain what were the intentions of Galantine; but this young\ncreature, engrossed by her new passion (for she was positively in love\nwith the portrait), could not control herself as prudence would have\nsuggested. She not only broke off with the Fairy abruptly, but, what\nwas worse, she exhibited so much contempt and aversion for Gluatin,\nthat the Fairy, indignant at the style of her refusal, left the\nPrincess with a determination to be revenged.\n\nIn the meanwhile the Princess had made a conquest she was unconscious\nof. The vessel she had seen so near her residence had on board the\nhandsomest Prince in the world. He had heard of the Enchanted Tower,\nand determined to go nearer to it than any one had yet done. He\npossessed such excellent glasses, that in surveying the Tower, simply\nfrom a motive of curiosity, he caught sight of the Princess, and the\nbest proof of the goodness of his glass, and that he must have seen her\ndistinctly is, that he fell desperately in love with her.\n\nLike a young man and a new lover, two conditions in which nothing is\nthought too hazardous, he was eager to cast anchor near the Tower,\nlower a boat, and encounter all the dangers that the enchantment could\nthreaten him with; but all his crew upon their knees implored him not\nto venture. His Equerry, who was more frightened than any, or whose\nknowledge of the circumstances rendered him more competent to form an\nopinion, was most eloquent. \"You would lead us all to certain death,\nmy Lord,\" said he; \"deign to return on shore, and I promise you to\ngo in search of the Fairy Commode. She is a relation of mine, and has\nalways been very fond of me. I will answer for her zeal and her skill.\nI am perfectly sure she will do you good service.\" The Prince yielded,\nbut very reluctantly, to so many good arguments. He landed therefore\non the nearest point of land, and despatched his Equerry to find his\nrelative, and implore her protection and assistance. In the meanwhile\nhe ordered a tent to be pitched on the sea shore, and, glass in hand,\nsat incessantly looking either at the Princess or at her prison, and\nhis imagination becoming more and more excited, often presented to him\nits own creations for realities.\n\nAt the end of a few days the Equerry returned with the Fairy Commode.\nThe Prince received her with the greatest demonstrations of affection.\nThe Equerry had informed her during their journey of the state of the\ncase. \"In order to lose no time,\" said she to the Prince, \"I will\nsend a white pigeon, in which I place implicit confidence, to examine\nthe enchantment. If he finds a flaw in it anywhere, he shall enter\nthe garden that crowns the Tower, and I will order him to bring back\nsome flowers as a proof that he succeeded in finding an entrance.\nIf he can get in, I will soon find a way to introduce you.\" \"But,\"\nsaid the Prince, \"can I not, by means of your pigeon, send a note to\nthe Princess, declaring the passion with which she has inspired me?\"\n\"Certainly you can,\" said Commode, \"and I advise you to do so.\" The\nPrince immediately wrote the following letter:--\n\n              _\"Prince Blondin to Princess Galantine._\n\n \"I adore you, and I am aware of your destiny. If, beautiful Princess,\n you will deign to accept the homage of my heart, there is nothing I\n will not undertake to render myself the happiest of men by terminating\n your misfortunes.--BLONDIN.\"\n\nWhen this note was written, they tied it round the neck of the Pigeon,\nwho only awaited his dispatches, for he had already received his\ninstructions. He rose gracefully into the air, and flew off as fast\nas his wings would carry him; but when he approached the tower there\nissued from it a furious wind that repelled him violently. He was not,\nhowever, to be disheartened by such an obstacle, and after making many\ncircles round and round about the building, he discovered the weak\npoint which the Fairy R\u00e8veuse had left in the enchantment. He slipped\nthrough it instantly, and flew down into the garden to wait for the\nPrincess and to rest himself.\n\nThe Princess generally took her walk alone; from inclination, because\na passion engrossed her heart; from necessity, because the Governess\ncould no longer ascend to that height without great fatigue. As soon\nas the Pigeon saw her appear, he flew to her in the most flattering\nmanner. Galantine caressed him, and seeing a rose-coloured ribbon round\nhis neck, she wondered what it was put there for. How great was her\nsurprise when she perceived the note! She read it, and this was the\nanswer she returned by the Pigeon:--\n\n             _\"Princess Galantine to Prince Blondin._\n\n \"You say that you have seen me, and that you love me. I cannot love\n you, nor promise to love you, without having seen you. Send me your\n portrait by the same courier. If I return it to you, hope nothing;\n but if I keep it, be assured that in working for me you work for\n yourself.--GALANTINE.\"\n\nShe fastened this letter in the same manner as they had done that which\nshe had just received, and dismissed the Pigeon, who did not forget\nthat he was ordered to bring back a flower from the garden; but as he\nwas well aware of the importance lovers often attach to trifles, he\nstole one from a bouquet the Princess wore in her bosom, and flew away.\n\nThe return of this bird gave the Prince such extreme delight, that,\nbut for the anxiety he was still under, he might perhaps have lost his\nsenses. He wanted to send the Pigeon back instantly with a miniature\nof himself, which, by the greatest chance in the world, he happened to\nhave amongst his baggage; but the Fairy insisted on an hour's rest for\nher courier, which the Prince employed in writing verses to send with\nhis portrait.\n\nThe Pigeon, duly furnished with miniature and verses, set out once\nmore for the tower. The Princess was not certain he would return so\nsoon, but she was looking out for him, notwithstanding. She was in the\ngarden, and had said nothing of this last adventure to her Governess,\nfor she began to feel that love of mystery and reserve with which a\nfirst passion usually inspires one. She eagerly detached the miniature\nfrom the Pigeon's neck, and her surprise was infinite when, on opening\nthe case, she discovered that the portrait of Prince Blondin perfectly\nresembled that which Bonnette had painted from fancy. It was one of\nthose fortunate accidents which it is impossible to account for.\n\nThe delight of Galantine was extreme at making this agreeable\ndiscovery; and to express in the prettiest possible way her own\nsentiments, she took the Prince's miniature out of its case, put in its\nplace the one she thought best of the many which Bonnette had painted\nof her, and immediately sent the Pigeon back with it, who began to be\nrather fatigued, and would not long have been able to serve two lovers\nwho kept up a correspondence so uncommonly active.\n\nPrince Blondin had kept his eyes constantly turned in the direction of\nthe tower, awaiting the return of his courier. At length he saw the\nblessed Pigeon approaching; but what were his feelings as soon as he\ncould discern that the bird had fastened round his neck the same case\nthat he had taken away with him! He was nearly dying with grief. The\nfairy, who had never left him, consoled him as well as she could, and\ntook herself from the Pigeon's neck the case, which he even refused\nto look at. She opened it, and pointed out to him his error. In an\ninstant he went into a transport of joy that could only be compared\nfor its intensity to that he had just endured of affliction. \"We will\nlose no time,\" said Commode; \"I can only make you happy by changing\nyou into a bird; but I will take care that you shall be re-transformed\nat the right moment.\" The Prince, without hesitation, consented to the\ntransformation, and to anything else which could assist him to approach\nthe person he adored. The good Commode thereupon touched him with her\nwand, and he became in an instant the prettiest little Humming-bird in\nthe world, joining to the attractions which nature has bestowed on that\ncharming bird that of being able to speak in the most agreeable way\npossible.\n\nThe Pigeon received fresh orders to conduct him to the garden.\nGalantine was astonished to see a bird she had no knowledge of; but his\nbeing accompanied by the Pigeon put her heart in a flutter, and the\nHumming-bird, flying to her, said, \"Good morning, beautiful Princess.\"\nShe had never before heard a bird speak, and this novelty increased\nthe gratification with which she received this one. She took him on her\nfinger, and he immediately said to her \"Kiss, kiss Colibri.\" She did\nso with great pleasure, over and over again. I leave you to imagine if\nthe Prince was delighted, and if he was not at the same time very much\nvexed that he was only a Humming-bird, for lovers are the only persons\nin the world who are happy and miserable at the same time.\n\nCommode, however, knew by her art that this was exactly the moment to\nrestore the Prince to his natural form, which she did so quickly that\nthe Princess, in the twinkling of an eye, found herself pressed to the\nheart of a lover whom she loved.\n\nThe spell was broken. That instant the tower trembled and rocked to\nhis foundations. Its walls even began to open. Bonnette, who was\nbelow-stairs, in the greatest alarm ascended to the terrace, at least\nto perish with the Princess. The rocking of the tower increased as she\nmounted the staircase, and when she arrived at the top and saw the\nwhole building lean over and on the verge of falling into the sea, she\nfainted outright.\n\nAt the same moment the two fairies, Commode and Paisible, arrived in\na chariot of Venetian glass, drawn by six eagles of the largest size.\n\"Save yourselves quickly,\" they cried to the two lovers. \"The tower is\nfalling, and you will perish with it.\" They leapt into the fairy car,\nwithout having had time to say a word to each other; but the Prince\nmanaged at the same moment to fling the Governess, still in her swoon,\ninto the bottom of the car. Scarcely had they begun to rise in the air,\nwhen the tower toppled over, and, with a horrible noise, fell, a mass\nof ruins, into the sea. The Fairy Marine, Gluantin, and his friends, in\norder to be revenged on the Princess, had sapped the foundations.\n\nMarine, perceiving that her designs were foiled by the intervention of\nthe two Fairies, determined to try if she could not by open war obtain\npossession of Galantine. She suddenly formed an immense chariot out of\nsome exhalations, and, entering it with all her family, filled every\navailable space in it with oysters in their shells, fragments of rock,\nstones, and other trifles of that description. With this chariot and\nthis ammunition she caused herself to be wafted by a high wind to\nthe sea-shore, to intercept the car of glass. She did even more--she\ncommanded all the wild ducks and sea-fowl of every sort for ten leagues\nround to come in flocks to darken the air, and oppose the landing of\nthe Fairies. This order was executed with a quacking and squalling that\nwas insupportable.\n\nOur two lovers thought themselves lost; but as they had a taste for\nthe destruction of enchantments, they wished to try what they could\ndo against this. The Fairies, however, did not consider it necessary.\nCommode produced from the box-seat of the car a great quantity of\npetards and rockets, which she had provided apparently for the purpose\nof making a display of fireworks. But whatever might have been her\nreason for bringing them, she now used them with much effect, for\nshe directed so many against these troublesome fowl, that they were\ncompelled to disperse. The enemy in the chariot then had recourse to\ntheir last weapons. Not one of the Marine party doubted that, with the\noysters and stones, they should shatter the glass car to fragments in a\nfew moments. It was not a bad idea, and we may even presume that they\nwould have achieved their object if the Fairy Paisible had not taken\nout of her pocket a burning-glass which she always carried about with\nher.\n\nIt is best to be candid. I frankly admit that I never very clearly\nunderstood for what purpose she constantly carried that particular\nutensil. But she placed it, however, on this occasion, in such a\nposition that it speedily warmed her enemies after a fashion as new as\nit was disagreeable. They uttered the most fearful shrieks, and the\nexhalations being dispelled by the power of the sun, all the Marine\nfamily, with the Fairy herself, were precipitated pell-mell into the\nocean, leaving our two victorious Fairies to continue their journey to\nthe dominions of Queen Mutine.\n\nOn arriving in them they found she was dead. She had endeavoured,\npartly from fear of some new punishment, partly from conviction, to\ncontrol her temper. In this attempt she had swallowed so many violent\nexpressions, and stifled so many wicked impulses, that these prodigious\nand continued efforts, after causing her several severe fits of\nillness, at length terminated fatally.\n\nShe had been dead, indeed, some years. The good king who had married\nher, quietly enjoyed the sweets of his widowhood; and though he had no\nother children than the daughter whom he never expected to see again,\nnothing in the world could have induced him to marry a second time.\nHe governed his estates very peacefully, and the good King Prudent,\nGalantine's grandfather, had just arrived, notwithstanding his great\nage, to pass the holidays with him.\n\nWhat joy for these two worthy sovereigns. The whole Court soon\nparticipated in it, as the news spread of the arrival of the Fairies\nwith a charming Princess, who was their King's daughter.\n\nThe marriage of the two lovers was fixed for the next morning. Couriers\nwere instantly dispatched in all directions, to beg the Fairies\ngenerally to honour the nuptials with their presence. You may believe\nthat Fairy Grave was not forgotten. In short, they arrived from all\nquarters. Festivities, balls, tournaments, grand banquets, succeeded\neach other for many days. They bantered, and at the same time thanked,\nFairy R\u00e8veuse, for the blunder she had made in her enchantments. She\ndefended herself by observing that lovers were always more ingenious\nthan magicians were skilful, and that to prevent their success it would\nrequire an enchantment that was impossible.\n\nI forgot to tell you that the Governess recovered from her swoon\nimmediately on her arriving at the Palace. In short, everybody was\nsatisfied, and the Fairies, after sharing in the festivities for\nseveral days, departed, each to manage her own affairs, or to enjoy new\npleasures. Our lovers were always constant, and became the happiest\nsovereigns on the face of the earth.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[28] A light sort of travelling carriage still in use abroad,\nand so called from the city in which it was invented.\n\n[29] Literally \"mad dog fashion.\" One of the many extravagant\nwhims of the day.\n\n[30] _Requin_, chien de mer, Landais. In Cotgrave, _requien_,\nwho describes it as \"a certaine ravenous, rough-skinned, and\nwide-mouthed fish, which is good meat.\" It is generally, however, the\nname given to the white-shark, and said by some writers to be derived\nfrom the word _Requiem_--a far-fetched allusion to the vast number of\nvictims to its voracity.\n\n[31] The sea-lamprey, a small fish that, by adhering to the\nkeels of ships, was supposed to have the power of stopping them, or at\nleast of retarding their progress.\n\n\n\n\nBLEUETTE AND COQUELICOT.\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a Fairy named Bonnebonne, who became\nweary of the great offices in Fairy Land to which her character and\ntalents had elevated her. She retired from state affairs, and chose\nfor her retreat an island situated in the midst of a very beautiful\nlake, bordered by the most rich, smiling, and luxuriant scenery. This\ncharming retreat was called the \"Island of Happiness.\" It is known to\nhave existed; it is even believed by some to be always in the country\nadjoining their own; but the geographers have not yet laid it down\nin any map, and I have never read of any traveller fortunate enough\nto land on it. It is sufficient for us, however, that we have a full\naccount of it in the annals of the Fairies.\n\nBonnebonne, as we have already stated, weary of the world, and not\ncaring to pay court to it, demanded of the Queen of the Fairies\npermission to withdraw from it altogether, and went to reside in the\nIsland of Happiness. It was there that, with the finest library and all\nthe knowledge she had acquired in the world, she became the most clever\nof all the fairies. She made all her neighbours happy, and gratitude\nwas the foundation of her authority. Independently of a natural\ninclination to oblige, a sentiment which retirement from the great\nworld by no means tends to diminish, there is a great satisfaction in\nseeing those around us happy.\n\nIn order to enjoy this real pleasure, and at the same time to avoid\nbeing overwhelmed with foolish petitions, she had placed, at short\ndistances from each other, columns of white marble, to which those\naddressed themselves who had either requests or complaints to make.\nThese columns were constructed in such a manner that, on speaking in a\nwhisper to them, they repeated every word distinctly, and in the same\ntone of voice, in a cabinet of the castle. Bonnebonne had lodged in\nthis cabinet a niece whom she had brought up as a fairy, and who gave\nher an account every evening of all that the columns had reported, and\nthe Fairy then pronounced her decisions.\n\nThe principal occupation of Bonnebonne was to educate and make children\nhappy: she gave them for breakfast as well as for luncheon everything\nthey could wish for in sweetmeats and pastry; but when they had been a\nfortnight in this happy dwelling, they cared no more for sugar-plums,\nbut passed the day in running on the grass, gathering nuts in the\nwoods, or flowers in the gardens. They went on the lake in pretty\nboats, which they rowed themselves--in short, they did all day just\nwhatever they liked, and happiness consists principally in liberty.\nIt is true that they had nurses and tutors, but they were generally\ninvisible. They informed Bonnebonne of anything their pupils had done\nthat was wrong, and for this she reprimanded the offender, but always\nwith mildness, for she was the most kind-hearted woman in the world.\n\nSometimes the nurses and preceptors made themselves visible, and on\nthese occasions they might be seen supping all together on the turf, or\ndancing and singing, or amusing themselves in making toys and dolls;\nin short, nothing had an air of severity in this happy abode, and no\none left it without the greatest regret. But as all must submit to\nfate, and the Fairies themselves are obliged to obey it, when the young\npeople had attained a certain age--that is to say, twelve or fifteen\nyears,--and when the lessons of the Fairy had made a sort of impression\non the minds of her pupils, and she considered them sufficiently well\ninformed to enter into the world, she was obliged to send them home,\nwhich she always did laden with caresses and presents, and assurances\nof a friendship the proof of which she frequently gave them in the\nafter course of their lives.\n\nAmongst the number of children confided to her care by their\nparents, there was a little girl named Bleuette, so pretty and so\ngood that Bonnebonne preferred her to all the rest, and loved her\nto distraction. She was affectionate without being troublesome, and\nlively without being fatiguing; her face expressed the sweetness of\nher character: her beauty increased with her age, and possessed that\npeculiar brilliancy which is so dazzling. It is to her rare beauty that\nwe owe the familiar saying, still in use amongst us, when we speak of\nanything which has dazzled us, \"J'ai vu des Bleuettes.\"\n\nA boy, about two years older than Bleuette, also inhabited the Island\nof Happiness; he was called Coquelicot: his face was charming, it was\nas bright as his mind, and his pretty little graceful ways were equally\npleasing to Bonnebonne. That which rendered both more charming was,\nthat in their infancy they became inseparable, and that the vivacity\nof the one was tempered by the mildness and tenderness of the other.\nBonnebonne daily enjoyed observing the impression and progress which\ntrue love makes upon innocence and ingenuousness. She was constantly\noccupied in the study of it, and felt that all other happiness, which\nshe knew so well how to procure, could not be compared to it; indeed,\nwhat felicity can be placed in the balance with that of two hearts\nwhich love has united by similarity of taste and temper?\n\nCoquelicot, quick as he was, perhaps, indeed, too soon excited, was\nmoderate and even mild in all that regarded Bleuette, who on her part,\nwas only animated and vivacious in matters which concerned Coquelicot.\nThe birth and progress of these sentiments had been their delight; the\nsweet emotions which they exhibited were the charm of Bonnebonne's\nexistence, for she said to herself a hundred times, \"Good Heavens! how\npretty are these poor children! How they love each other! How happy\nthey are; they never think of leaving my Island. Never have more happy\nsubjects inhabited my empire!\"\n\nOn an evening of one of the most beautiful of summer days, all the\nlovely children were playing and amusing themselves in different parts\nof this enchanted residence, when all at once there appeared in the air\na car drawn by six flame-coloured griffins: the car was of the same\ncolour, relieved with black ornaments: it bore the Fairy Arganto. Her\nhair was powdered brown with a slight sprinkle of red.[32]\n\nHer dress was of the same colour as the car. Her griffins alighted\nat the portico of the castle, whither Bonnebonne and her niece had\nrepaired to do the honours to the Fairy, and assist her to descend.\nAfter the first compliments, Arganto confessed to Bonnebonne that not\nbeing able to understand the pleasures of retirement, and disgusted by\nsome disagreements at Court, she had wished to judge for herself of\nthe pleasures and cares of a life like hers, and that, in order to be\nperfectly enlightened on the subject, she had come to the resolution of\npassing some days with her.\n\nBonnebonne kindly replied that she would willingly satisfy her, and\nhide nothing from her. \"The beauties of nature,\" added she, \"are the\npictures which I study; its fruits are my treasures; its secrets the\nobject of my researches, and my pleasures are solely dependent on the\nhappiness of others. Infancy is the state of humanity which can be made\nthe most happy; you will find me, therefore, only surrounded by the\nprettiest children nature has produced.\"\n\nSo saying, she led Arganto further into the Island, at each step\nencountering troops of little children of both sexes and all ages,\nwhose natural manners inspired true gaiety; some danced, others played\nat blindman's-buff, some amused themselves playing at \"ladies and\ngentlemen,\" in short they passed quickly from one fancy to another;\ntheir characters were thus developed, and it was easy to imagine\nwhat each would become at a more advanced age. Arganto thought this\nrecreation of Bonnebonne very poor; she judged of it as a person of\nfashion, that is to say, with contempt. She told her companion that\nshe could not conceive the pleasure of such amusements, unless some\ningenuity was employed to improve them: it was in vain that Bonnebonne\neulogized them. She would not be persuaded; at length, continuing their\nwalk, they met Bleuette and Coquelicot, conversing together, who saw\nnothing but themselves in nature, and who had no pleasure, no wish, no\noccupation nor will but in common.\n\nBonnebonne called them, and they ran towards her with that confidence\nand affection which her goodness and their gratitude had inspired them\nwith. Arganto was struck with the charms of their countenances, and\nsaid as much to them; they blushed, and thanked the Fairy for each\nother. \"I agree,\" said she to Bonnebonne, \"that nature could not\npresent a more agreeable picture than that of these lovely children;\nbut,\" continued she, \"are they as intelligent as their features would\nseem to denote?\" \"Most assuredly,\" replied Bonnebonne, \"it may not\nbe perhaps the kind of intelligence to please you, for it is quite\nnatural. Besides this, they love each other more than they choose to\nacknowledge, especially to a stranger.\" The Fairies then embraced them\na thousand times, and left them together.\n\nBonnebonne agreed with Arganto not to trouble herself about her during\nher stay, but to occupy herself as usual with her studies; but the\nlatter could not help speaking of the impression which Bleuette and\nCoquelicot had made on her, and she requested they might keep her\ncompany.\n\nArganto was born wicked, and wickedness looks with impatience on the\nhappiness of others, and is always at work to destroy it, even if\nwith no other motive but that of doing mischief. Upon these fearful\nprinciples, she employed the time of her visit in pointing out to\nher young companions the poverty and insipidity of the place they\ninhabited; they, whom nature had formed for the delight and ornament of\nthe most brilliant Court; and then she gave them a glowing description\nof the abodes of kings. \"You are enchanted,\" said she, continually,\n\"with the life which you lead; but do you know any other? The splendour\nof the world, the f\u00eates which are given to beauty alone, the preference\nwhich is at all times accorded to it, are the real triumphs of a pretty\ngirl;\" it was thus she spoke to Bleuette. \"And you,\" addressing herself\nto Coquelicot, \"with the spirit you possess, what would you not do at\nCourt? You certainly must be brave; and of what are you not capable?\"\n\nThis wicked discourse made by degrees the impression which Arganto\nwished upon the minds of these amiable children. They sought each\nother's company as usual, but they found each other no longer occupied\nwith themselves alone: they began by self reproaches, and at length\nmade reciprocal confessions, for they could no longer talk of anything\nelse but the opinions of the Fairy. Love, and the hope of not being\nseparated, it is true, were the foundation of their projects; but\ncuriosity, and the novelty of all which Arganto had told them, and\nabove all, self-love, the poison of life, perverted at length their\ninnocent minds; they abandoned themselves to the wicked fairy, who,\nin order to make them fall more easily into the snare she had laid\nfor them, did not neglect to destroy the respect and gratitude they\nentertained for Bonnebonne, by telling them, \"She is a provincial\nfairy, whose taste is not at all refined. Her character not suiting the\nCourt, she is too happy to be able to keep you with her; she sacrifices\nyour fortunes to the pleasure and use which you are of to her.\" It was\nby such discourse as this that she induced these children to become\nungrateful: she promised them not to forsake them, and assured them\nthat, being a more powerful fairy than Bonnebonne, they need not be\nanxious about anything. She did even more,--she warned them of all that\nthe good fairy would say to them when she should learn the resolution\nthey had taken: in short, they promised to follow her after she had\nagain given them her word that they should not be separated.\n\nWhen Arganto was well assured of the part they had taken, she said\nto Bonnebonne that it was time she should cease to trouble her in\nher retreat, and begged her, at the same time, to allow her to take\nwith her Bleuette and Coquelicot. The good Fairy, who had perceived\nnothing, and who had no suspicion of the designs of Arganto, as she\nhad herself ordered them to pay court to and obey the Fairy, whilst\nshe was occupied in her cabinet, and above all, because a good heart\ncannot imagine ingratitude: Bonnebonne, as I said before, consented\nto Arganto's request, with the understanding, however, that the\nproposition should please the young couple, feeling quite convinced\nthat they would never wish to leave her. The question was put to them\non the spot. What was the astonishment of Bonnebonne when they accepted\nthe proposal to abandon her and follow the Fairy! They set at nought\nall her reasonings, so full of friendship and good advice; they were\ntoo deeply prejudiced against her. Bonnebonne then said to them, with\nmildness, \"It is conviction which makes happiness. You would cease to\nbe happy in this abode, because you imagine greater felicity awaits you\nin another country: depart, let nothing detain you,\" said she, with\ntears in her eyes, \"may you be contented.\"\n\nBleuette and Coquelicot were moved by this tender discourse, and on the\npoint of falling at the feet of this adorable fairy, and conjuring\nher to forget that they had ever had the idea of separating from her;\nbut the emotion they felt at the moment made them both faint away, so\nthat the wickedness of Arganto was not required to counteract this\nreturn of good feeling. She herself was touched by so tender a scene,\nand at the moment almost repented having caused so much sorrow to three\npersons, who were only to blame for placing too much confidence in her.\nNot knowing exactly what to do, she prepared to set out alone, when\nBonnebonne said, \"I might complain of the manner in which you have\nabused the reception I have given you: but the great fruit of study and\nof solitude is forgiveness of injuries. I am not, therefore, at all\naffected by it myself, but I feel for the misfortune of these young\npeople--I love them both.\" \"I will not take them away, then,\" replied\nArganto; \"you see they have refused me, and you cannot doubt the\nattachment they feel for you.\" \"No,\" replied Bonnebonne, \"I feel myself\ncompelled to beg you to take with you those I loved best in my retreat;\nyou have perverted them, their hearts are no longer what they were:\nthey would henceforth only live with me out of compliment. If they had\nsufficient art to disguise it from me, could I be ignorant of their\nthoughts? Take them, then, I conjure you, and at least protect them\namongst the dangers to which you expose them.\" \"As you absolutely wish\nit,\" replied Arganto, \"I will do so.\" She then carried them, fainting\nas they were, both into her car, and her griffins flying at a rapid\npace speedily landed them in the Kingdom of Errors.\n\nThe King who governed it at that time thought himself the greatest of\nprinces. Flattery had persuaded him that he was descended from the\ngods. In consequence of this idea he caused himself to be worshipped\nby his subjects. His throne of gold and precious stones, upon which he\nonly appeared once a month, was surrounded by tigers and elephants,\nbound with chains of the same precious materials, and covered with\nsuperb embroidery. Without entering into further details of the\nceremonies of this court, suffice it to say, the King exhibited upon\nevery occasion all the ostentation with which a crown could inspire\nhim. Arganto was his best friend, the partaker of his pleasures, and it\nwas into the superb palace which she possessed at his court that she\nconducted Bleuette and Coquelicot.\n\nThe moment they recovered from their swoon they had the pleasure of\nseeing each other. The magnificence of the place in which they found\nthemselves astonished them. Their uncertainty did not last long:\nArganto entered to dissipate it. They immediately asked her to give\nthem some news of Bonnebonne. The Fairy informed them that Bonnebonne\nhad consented to their advancement, and had herself conjured her to\ntake them away. Bleuette and Coquelicot were comforted by this account,\nfor they had been afraid of displeasing her. Arganto then said to them,\n\"Here, Bleuette, is the apartment prepared for you; your household\nshall be formed to-night. Meanwhile, here are your waiting-women: let\nme present them to you.\"\n\nAt these words, there appeared a dozen handsome young persons, carrying\nall the innumerable trifles which have become so necessary to a lady's\ntoilet. They were followed by an equal number of valets-de-chambre,\nbearing boxes and caskets, and who in a few moments fitted up and set\nout a most superb dressing-table. Garments adapted to the season then\nappeared in such great profusion that they covered all the chairs,\nbeds, and couches in this large apartment. When everything was arranged\naccording to the Fairy's pleasure, she said to Bleuette, \"This all\nbelongs to you, and you have nothing to study but how to avail yourself\nof it.\" She then showed her a basket full of ornaments and a jewel-case\ncrammed with precious stones as perfect in themselves as they were\ntastefully set, saying to her, \"Beautiful Bleuette, this little\njewel-box will amuse you, but let us now proceed to the apartment I\ndestine for Coquelicot.\" Bleuette followed the Fairy without being\nable to reply; her surprise and astonishment appeared to her like a\nbeautiful dream. They all three passed into another apartment. It was\nplain, but neat. Four valets-de-chambre, who were in the second room,\nstept forward and presented him with clothes as tasteful as they were\nsuperb, in order that he might select those in which he wished to\nappear that day. They then opened the door of a sort of large cabinet,\ncontaining all kinds of musical instruments, also a library well\nstocked with historical works, but more particularly with romances and\nfairy tales.\n\n\"Behold,\" said Arganto, \"what will amuse you when you are weary of\nthe pleasures of society, or require rest after exercise.\" She then\ncommanded the person she had chosen for his equerry to appear.\n\"You may,\" said she to Coquelicot, \"take his advice; he is a man to\nbe depended on, and a good companion. Show,\" continued she to this\ngentleman, \"the things of which you have the charge.\" There then\nappeared servants in livery, who carried the most magnificent and\nperfect arms for war and the chase. And even this was not all: \"Let\nus,\" said Arganto, \"look out of the window.\" They obeyed her, and\nperceived fifty saddle-horses, led by five-and-twenty grooms, superbly\nclothed and well mounted. \"There,\" said she, \"are your horses for\nhunting and riding.\" She then ordered out the carriages: berlins,\nberlingots, vis-\u00e0-vis, cal\u00eaches of all kinds, defiled under the\nwindows, drawn by the prettiest and best groomed horses in the world,\nwith their manes tastefully plaited. Coquelicot, as much astonished as\nBleuette, observed also the same silence. \"Learn, both of you,\" said\nArganto, \"to make good use of what I have just given you; you are both\ncharming, but believe me, dress is necessary to beauty.\" She then left\nthem in their separate apartments, questioning their new domestics on\nthe particular use of all the novelties that surrounded them, for they\ndared not yet give any orders. They at length dressed themselves, and\nCoquelicot proceeding to the apartment of Bleuette, they were mutually\nastonished at the agreeable effect of their attire, and uttering a\nhundred praises of the good taste of Arganto, they became more than\never convinced of the truth of what she had told them respecting\nBonnebonne, for whose simplicity they began to blush.\n\nAll the Court learning the arrival of Bleuette and Coquelicot, either\nfrom curiosity or the desire to please the Fairy, came with great\neagerness to pay her a visit. The King himself did her this honour. The\npraises of the men of Bleuette, and those of the women of Coquelicot,\ngratified both exceedingly. They found that the language spoken in this\ncountry had an agreeable style hitherto quite unknown to them; they\nwere struck by it, and thought of nothing but imitating it. Bleuette,\nfrom the first day, perceived that Coquelicot was not made for his fine\nclothes, and that he had a borrowed air which the other young men who\nsurrounded her had not: in short, both were occupied by a thousand new\nfancies. They saw each other every day, it is true, but they sought\neach other less; and the tender conversations, in which simplicity,\ningenuousness, candour, and truth had formerly so large a share, no\nlonger took place between them; they were only anxious now to place\ntheir words and turn their phrases according to the style which they\nhad been so much struck with in their new residence.\n\nThe dress, the magnificence, and the brilliancy with which they dazzled\nthe whole court caused every one to give them the titles of prince and\nprincess. They knew well that they did not deserve them from their low\nbirth; but the mistake of others gratified their vanity. They agreed\nbetween them to keep their real condition secret, and hoped privately\nthat their beauty and merit would in time really raise them to that\ndignity.\n\nCoquelicot had perfectly handsome features and a charming figure. He\nperformed all kinds of feats with marvellous success; almost all the\nladies were pulling caps for him. Bleuette was not in the least jealous\nof his conquests, and although in such situations one is not always\njust, she had at least the generosity not to reproach him in any way.\nIn fact, she deserved reproaching equally herself, for the Court and\nits grand airs had changed her heart and mind as much as his. Bleuette,\non her part, thinking of nothing but how to attract admiration and\nto outvie all the other beauties of the Court, became a practised\ncoquette. You may easily judge, knowing what I have told you, how long\nshe was in availing herself of all the presents of the Fairy. She very\nsoon invented fashions, which all the other ladies, handsome or ugly,\nwere, in spite of themselves, obliged to follow. During some time this\ngratification of her vanity only presented to her view jealous rivals,\nmen captivated and admiring, flattered or plunged into despair, by her\nglances and her deceptive and provoking speeches; but Bleuette was so\nbeautiful, she had so much wit and grace, that, even when making them\nmost miserable, she was the theme of their praises and the object of\nattraction to all the finest people of the Court. She also conducted\nherself with so much prudence that no one could cast the least slur on\nher.\n\nCoquelicot, on his part--\"fickle adorer of a thousand different\nobjects\"--flattered his vanity without ever satisfying his heart.\n\nSuch was the true and unhappy situation in which these two persons,\nformerly the most loving and amiable possible, found themselves,\nwhen this same vanity, the shoal on which so much happiness has been\nwrecked, was itself violently offended.\n\nIt must be remembered that, dazzled by the splendour which surrounded\nthem, they had both received with pleasure the titles of princes;\nbut nothing is unknown to the world, and such vanity would awaken\na contempt for falsehood, in those who have no higher motive for\ndespising it. A youth, brought up, as they had been, by Bonnebonne,\nin the Island of Happiness, having wandered from it, as many others\nhad done, in passing through several countries, had been attracted to\nthe Court inhabited by Bleuette and Coquelicot. He was astonished to\nhear the grand titles of prince and princess added to their well-known\nnames, he ran, however, to the Fairy's palace to embrace them; but far\nfrom receiving him kindly, they did not condescend even to recognise\nhim. He complained to everybody who would listen to him, and all\nthe Court were very soon informed that Princess Bleuette and Prince\nCoquelicot were the children of, 'twas true, very honest people, but\nwho were nothing but poor shepherds. The Court is a region in which\nnothing is forgiven, and where anything ridiculous is sought for with\nthe greatest eagerness; therefore, it profited by this affair. Songs\nand epigrams were circulated in a moment; and the objects of their\nattack could not pretend ignorance of them, for, according to the\npraiseworthy custom of the authors of such works, the first copies were\naddressed to the persons most interested. Coquelicot was bantered by\none of the wits of the Court; but he demanded very prompt satisfaction,\nand the combat, in which he killed his adversary, brought him honour\nin a place where truth is so rare, notwithstanding that a falsehood is\nnever pardoned. They rendered justice to his valour, but they no longer\npaid him the same attentions; for in short, although riches can obtain\neverything, the ridicule attached to low birth combined with vanity\nis rarely overlooked at Court. As for Bleuette, whom wounded pride\nrendered still more haughty than ever, and who hoped by her beauty\nand accomplishments to stifle the disagreeable reports which had been\nspread about her former pastoral condition--Bleuette, I must tell you,\nhad, in addition, the mortification to see some letters which she had\nhad the imprudence to write handed round amongst her acquaintances.\nHer attraction diminished and her reputation tarnished (however\nunjustly) hurt her deeply, and induced her to reflect seriously.\nRecalling then the remembrance of her former happiness, the words of\nBonnebonne presented themselves to her mind.\n\nBleuette being thus agitated by all the recollections which led her\nback to her first sentiments for Coquelicot, looked only with regret\nupon the conduct she had pursued towards him since she had been at\nCourt. She was ashamed of it, but it was not possible for her to speak\nto him openly on the subject. \"He will consider,\" said she, \"my most\nsincere repentance to be caused either by coquetry or jealousy; and I\ncannot complain, or he will believe that my birth being known and made\npublic in this country, has deranged my projects of advancement, and\nthat I am brought back to him only by a feeling of shame and necessity.\"\n\"No,\" continued she, \"I will not betray to him all the weakness of my\nheart, or all the pain which the false friendship of Arganto has caused\nme.\"\n\nSimilar ideas tormented Coquelicot. He thought all those who treated\nhim, as formerly, like a prince, did so in mockery, and to ridicule\nhim, and felt satisfied that those whose conduct was changed by the\nreports which had been spread respecting him would give him continual\nannoyance; this situation, distressing as it really could well be, was\nnot the sole evil which oppressed him. The remembrance of Bleuette,\ntender, faithful, simple, and innocent; the recollection of the\nresidence of Bonnebonne, and that of the charm and peace that pervaded\nit, awoke in his soul so great a disgust for all that the world calls\npleasure, and which he had himself taken for happiness, that he\ndetermined to fly from the Court. They had but to speak to one another,\nand they would have been convinced and consoled; but still young and\ninexperienced, they determined on the thing of all others to be avoided\nin love and friendship--silence: for want of confidence increases and\nenvenoms the wound we have received, as well as that which we have\ninflicted on others; thus, therefore, not daring to look at each other\n(so much had the shame of their proceedings made an impression on\ntheir hearts), they each separately, and without communicating their\nintentions to any one, made up their minds to quit the Court. Solitude\nappeared to offer them the only chance of consolation. They departed\nthe same morning, just as if they had been acting in concert. They\nchose the plainest dresses they could find, not without regretting\nthose they had brought with them to the Court; they would have felt\nstill nearer approaching their former innocence, in habits so vividly\nrecalling the scenes of their past felicity. They took nothing away\nwith them but the portraits which Arganto had had painted of them in\nminiature, representing them as they were when they left the Island of\nHappiness.\n\nThey set out by very different roads; but in proportion as they left\nthe Court behind them, nature spoke to their hearts. The song of the\nbirds, the serenity of the air, the view of the country, that sweet\nfreedom which it inspires,--all recalled their former happiness, all\nsoftened them, and drew them towards each other. \"But how shall we ever\nfind each other again,\" said they unceasingly to themselves. \"I should\nhave convinced him,\" thought Bleuette. \"She would have pardoned me,\"\nsighed Coquelicot: \"I will return to the Court. But how can I reappear\nthere (for each thought the other had remained in the palace) in this\nmiserable condition?\" The remembrance of Bonnebonne again presented\nitself to their mind. It is friendship we invoke in adversity. They\nresolved then to have recourse to her kindness. If they had not\nthemselves known the delights of the Island of Happiness, if they had\nnot been anxious to revisit the scenes of their former felicity, it\nis so natural to desire a similar habitation, that we often set out\nin search of it on the description of others. Each, therefore, turned\ntheir steps in the direction of the Island. It was very easy for them\nto find the way, they who had once so worthily inhabited it. They\nintended to address themselves to one of the columns of which I have\nspoken, and which conveyed to the ears of the Fairy all the requests\nof her petitioners. What was their surprise, or rather what was their\ndelight, to meet with each other again on a spot and in a dress which\nexplained everything! After the first transports, in which the eye\nhardly sufficed to satisfy the soul, the first words they uttered were,\n\"Pardon me, I cannot live without you.\" The pardon which is mutually\nsought is soon granted; and it was no longer necessary to implore the\naid of the Fairy. The unison of their desires had already transported\nthem into the most beautiful spot in the Island. They were anxious\nto excuse themselves, and request the forgiveness of Bonnebonne; but\nshe prevented them. \"I know all that has happened to you,\" said she,\n\"I have shared your troubles, although they were deserved. Enjoy the\nhappiness of my empire, you are now better able to appreciate its\ndelights.\"\n\nThey lived happily because they never ceased to love each other, and\nthey died at the same moment. Bonnebonne bestowed their names upon two\nwild flowers[33] in order to immortalize their memory.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[32] Hair-powder was at this period of various colours. Brown\nhair-powder was called \"Mar\u00e9chal,\" and grey powder was extremely\nfashionable in England as late as 1763.\n\n[33] The corn-flower and the poppy.\n\n\n\n\nMADEMOISELLE DE LUBERT.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The Princess Camion.--P. 373.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCESS CAMION.\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a King and Queen who had but one son, who\nwas their only hope. Fourteen years had elapsed from the time of\nhis birth, and the Queen had had no other children. The Prince was\nmarvellously handsome, and learnt with facility everything they wished\nhim to know. The King and Queen loved him to distraction, and their\nsubjects placed all their affections on him, for he was affable to\neverybody, and yet he knew well how to distinguish between the people\nwho approached him. His name was Zirphil. As he was an only son, the\nKing and Queen resolved he should marry as early as possible, in order\nto secure the succession to the crown should they unhappily be deprived\nof Zirphil.\n\nThey therefore sought on foot and on horseback a Princess worthy of\nthe heir-apparent,[34] but none was found suitable. At length, after\na most diligent inquiry, the Queen was informed that a veiled lady\ndesired a private audience of her Majesty, on business of importance.\nThe Queen immediately ascended her throne in the audience-chamber, and\nordered the lady to be admitted. The lady approached, without removing\nher white crape veil, which reached to the ground. When she arrived\nat the foot of the throne, \"Queen\" said she, \"I am astonished that,\nwithout consulting me, you have thought of marrying your son. I am the\nFairy Marmotte, and my name is sufficiently celebrated to have reached\nyour ears.\" \"Ah, Madam,\" said the Queen, quickly descending from her\nthrone, in order to embrace the Fairy, \"you will easily pardon me my\nfault when you learn that I have only listened to all the wonders which\nhave been told me about you as to a nursery tale; but now that you do\nme the favour to come to my palace, I no longer doubt your power, and\nbeg you will honour me with your advice.\" \"That is not a sufficient\nanswer to a Fairy,\" replied Marmotte. \"Such an excuse might perhaps\nsatisfy a common person, but I am mortally offended; and to begin your\npunishment, I command you to marry your Zirphil to the person I have\nbrought with me.\"\n\nAt these words she felt in her pocket, and, drawing out a toothpick\ncase, she opened it, and out of it came a little ivory doll, so pretty\nand so well made that the Queen, despite her grief, could not help\nadmiring it. \"This is my goddaughter,\" said the Fairy, \"and I have\nalways destined her for Zirphil.\" The Queen was bathed in tears. She\nconjured Marmotte, in the most touching words, not to expose her to\nthe ridicule of her people, who would laugh at her if she announced\nto them such a marriage. \"Laugh, indeed, will they, Madam?\" said the\nFairy. \"Ah, we shall see if they have reason to laugh, Madam. Ah, we\nshall see if they will laugh at my goddaughter, and if your son ought\nnot to adore her. I can tell you that she deserves to be adored. She\nis small, it is true; but she has more sense than there is in all your\nkingdom put together. When you hear her talk, you will be surprised\nyourself; for she can talk, I promise you. Now, then, little Princess\nCamion,\" said she, to the doll, \"speak a little to your mother-in-law,\nand show her what you can do.\" Then the pretty Camion jumped upon the\nQueen's _palatine_,[35] and paid her a little compliment so tender and\nso sensible that her Majesty suspended her tears to give the Princess\nCamion a hearty kiss.\n\n\"Here, Queen,\" said the Fairy, \"is my toothpick-case; replace your\ndaughter-in-law in it. I wish your son to get well accustomed to her\nbefore marrying her. I think it will not be long first. Your obedience\nmay soften my anger; but if you act contrary to my orders, you, your\nhusband, your son, and your kingdom, shall all feel the effect of my\nwrath. Above all, take care to replace her in her case early in the\nevening, for it is important that she should not be out late.\"\n\nAt these words she raised her veil, and the Queen fainted with fright\nwhen she perceived an actual live Marmot[36]--black, sleek, and as\nlarge as a human creature. Her women came to her assistance, and,\nwhen she recovered from her swoon, she saw nothing but the case that\nMarmotte had left with her.\n\nThey put her to bed, and went to inform the King of the accident. He\narrived in a great fright. The Queen sent every one away, and, with\na torrent of tears, she related her adventure to the King, who would\nnot believe it till he saw the doll that the Queen drew from the case.\n\"Just heaven!\" cried he, after having meditated a little, \"is it\npossible that kings should be exposed to such great misfortunes? Ah! we\nare only placed above other men in order to feel more acutely the cares\nand afflictions attached to our existence.\" \"And in order to give the\ngreater example of fortitude, sire,\" added the Doll, in a small, sweet,\nand distinct voice. \"My dear Camion,\" said the Queen, \"you speak like\nan oracle.\"\n\nAt length, after a conversation of an hour between these three persons,\nit was decided that they should not yet divulge the contemplated\nmarriage, and that they should wait until Zirphil, who was gone hunting\nfor three days, should have returned, and consented to obey the command\nof the Fairy, which the Queen undertook to communicate to him. In\nthe interim, the Queen, and even the King, shut themselves up, in\norder to converse with the little Camion. She had a highly-cultivated\nintellect, she spoke well, and with a singular turn of thought which\nwas very pleasing. But although she was animated, her eyes had a fixed\nexpression which was not agreeable, and the Queen was annoyed by it,\nas she began to love Camion, and feared that the Prince might take a\ndislike to her.\n\nMore than a month had elapsed since Marmotte had appeared, but the\nQueen had not yet dared to show Zirphil his intended. One day he\nentered her room whilst she was in bed. \"Madam,\" said he, \"the most\nsingular thing in the world occurred to me some days since whilst I\nwas hunting. I had wished to conceal it from you, but at length it has\nbecome so extraordinary, that I must positively tell you of it.\n\n\"I followed a wild boar with great ardour, and had pursued it into\nthe midst of a forest without observing that I was alone, when I saw\nhim throw himself into a hole which opened in the ground. My horse\nhaving plunged in after it, I continued falling for half an hour, and\nat length found myself at the bottom, without any hurt. There, instead\nof the boar, which I confess I feared to find, I saw a very ugly woman,\nwho begged me to dismount from my horse and follow her. I did not\nhesitate, and giving her my hand, she opened a little door which had\npreviously been hidden from my view, and I entered with her a saloon\nof green marble, where there was a golden bath, covered with a curtain\nof very rich stuff; the curtain rose, and I saw in the bath a person\nof such marvellous beauty that I thought I should have fallen to the\nground. 'Prince Zirphil,' said the lady, who was bathing, 'the Fairy\nMarmotte has enchanted me, and it is by your assistance alone that I\ncan be released.' 'Speak, Madam,' said I to her: 'what must I do to\nhelp you?' 'You must either,' said she, 'marry me instantly or skin me\nalive.' I was as much surprised at the first proposition as alarmed at\nthe second. She read in my eyes my embarrassment, and said, 'Do not\nimagine that I jest, or that I propose to you an act of which you may\nrepent. No, Zirphil, dismiss your fears; I am an unfortunate Princess\nto whom the Fairy has taken an aversion; she has made me half-woman,\nhalf-whale because I would not marry her nephew, the King of the\nWhiting, who is frightful, and even more wicked than he is hideous. She\nhas condemned me to remain in my present state until a Prince named\nZirphil shall fulfil one of the conditions that I have just proposed\nto you; to expedite this matter, I caused my maid of honour to take\nthe form of a wild boar, and it is she who has led you hither. I must\nnow tell you that you cannot leave this spot until you shall have\nfulfilled my desire in one manner or the other. I am not mistress here;\nand Citronette, whom you see with me, will tell you that it cannot be\narranged otherwise.'\n\n\"Imagine, Madam,\" said the Prince to the Queen, who listened\nattentively, \"in what a state this discourse left me.\" Although the\nface of the Whale-Princess pleased me excessively, and her charms and\nmisfortunes rendered her extremely interesting, her being half a fish\nhorrified me exceedingly; and the idea of skinning her alive threw me\ninto utter despair. 'But, Madam,' said I to her, at length (for my\nsilence became as stupid as insulting), 'is there not a third way?' I\nhad hardly uttered those unlucky works, than the Whale-Princess and\nher attendant uttered shrieks and lamentations which were enough to\npierce the vaulted roof of the saloon. 'Ungrateful wretch! cruel tiger!\nand everything that is most ferocious and most inhuman!' exclaimed the\nformer. 'Thou wouldst, then, that I should also be condemned to the\ntorture of seeing you expire? For if thou dost not resolve to grant my\nrequest, the Fairy has assured me thou wilt perish, and I shall remain\na whale all my life!'\n\n\"Her reproaches pierced my heart; she raised her beautiful arms out\nof the water, and joined her charming hands to implore me to decide\nquickly. Citronette was at my knees, which she embraced, screaming loud\nenough to deafen me. 'But how can I marry you?' said I; 'what sort of\nceremony can be performed?' 'Skin me,' said she tenderly, 'and do not\nmarry me, I prefer that.' 'Skin her!' screamed the other, 'and fear\nnothing.' I was in a state of perplexity which I cannot describe; and\nwhile I considered what I ought to do, their shrieks and tears were\nredoubled, till I knew not what would become of me. At length, after a\nthousand and one struggles, I cast my eyes once more on the beautiful\nWhale, and I confess that I found in her features an inexpressible\ncharm. I threw myself on my knees close to the bath, and taking her\nhand, 'No, divine Princess,' said I to her; 'I will not skin you, I\nwould rather marry you!'\n\n\"At these words joy lighted up the countenance of the Princess, but a\nmodest joy, for she coloured, and casting down her beautiful eyes, 'I\nshall never forget,' said she, 'the service that you render me; I am\nso penetrated with gratitude, that you may expect anything of me after\nthis generous resolution.' 'Do not lose time,' cried the insupportable\nCitronette; 'tell him quickly all that he must do.' 'It is sufficient,'\nsaid the Whale-Princess, blushing again, 'that you give me your ring,\nand that you should take mine; there is my hand, receive it as a pledge\nof my faith.' I had hardly made this tender exchange, and kissed the\nbeautiful hand which she presented to me, when I found myself again\nupon my horse in the midst of the forest. Having called my people, they\ncame to me, and I returned home without being able to utter a word, I\nwas so completely astounded. Since then, I am transported every night\nwithout knowing how, into the beautiful green saloon, where I pass the\nnight near an invisible person; she speaks to me, and tells me that\nthe time is not yet come for me to know who she is.\"\n\n\"Ah, my son,\" interrupted the Queen, \"is it possible, then, that you\nare really married to her?\" \"I am, Madam,\" replied the Prince; \"but\nalthough I love my wife infinitely, I would have sacrificed this\naffection if I could have escaped from the saloon without resorting\nto that alternative.\" At these words, a little voice, proceeding from\nthe Queen's pocket, said, \"Prince Zirphil, you should have flayed her;\nperhaps your pity may be fatal to you.\"\n\nThe Prince, surprised at this voice, remained speechless. The Queen in\nvain tried to conceal from him the cause of his astonishment; he felt\nquickly in her pocket, which was hanging upon the arm-chair near the\nbed, and drew from it the toothpick-case, which the Queen took from\nhis hand and opened. The Princess Camion immediately came out of it,\nand the astonished Prince threw himself on his knees by the bed-side\nof the Queen to inspect her nearer. \"I vow, Madam,\" cried he, \"that\nthis is my dear Whale in miniature. Is this some pleasantry, and have\nyou only wished to frighten me, by allowing me so long to believe\nthat you would not approve of my marriage?\" \"No, my son,\" at length\nthe Queen replied; \"my grief is real, and you have exposed us to the\nmost cruel misfortunes by marrying that Whale, for, in fact, you were\npromised to the Princess Camion whom you see in my hands.\" She then\nrelated to him what had passed between her and the Fairy Marmotte, and\nthe Prince allowed her to say all she wished without interruption, so\nmuch was he astonished to find that she and his father had agreed to\na proposition which was, on the face of it, so ridiculous. \"Heaven\nforbid, Madam,\" said he at length, when the Queen had finished, \"that\nI should ever oppose the designs of your Majesty, or that I should act\ncontrary to the wish of the King, my father, even when he commands me\nto do anything as impossible as this appears to me to be; but had I\nconsented, could I even have fallen in love with this pretty Princess,\nwould your subjects ever have----\" \"Time is a great teacher, Prince\nZirphil,\" interrupted Camion; \"but it is done; you cannot now marry me,\nand my godmother appears to me a person who will not patiently suffer\nany one to break their word with her. Diminutive as I am, I feel as\nacutely as the largest woman would the disagreeable nature of this\nadventure; but as you are not so much to blame, except perhaps for\nhaving been a little too hasty, I may persuade the Fairy to mitigate\nthe punishment.\"\n\nAfter these words Camion was silent, for she was exhausted with having\nsaid so much. \"My dear darling,\" said the Queen, \"I implore you to take\nsome repose for fear you should be ill and not in a condition to speak\nto the Fairy when she comes to afflict us; you are our consolation, and\nhowever she may punish us, I shall not feel it so deeply if Marmotte\ndoes not take you from us.\" The Princess Camion felt her little heart\nbeat at these words of the Queen: but being quite overcome, she could\nonly kiss her hand, and let fall upon it some tiny tears. Zirphil was\nmoved at this incident, and begged Camion to permit him to kiss her\nhand in his turn: she gave it him with much grace and dignity, and\nthen re-entered her case. After this tender scene the Queen rose, in\norder to go and tell the King what had passed, and take every rational\nprecaution against the anger of the Fairy.\n\nThe following night Zirphil, in spite of the guard which they had\ndoubled in his apartment, was carried off at midnight, and found\nhimself, as usual, in the company of his invisible wife; but instead of\nhearing any of those sweet and touching things which she was accustomed\nto say to him, he heard her weep, and found she kept aloof from him.\n\"What have I done?\" said he at last, when quite tired of pursuing her.\n\"You weep, dear Princess, when you ought to console me for all the\nperil I may have incurred, as the effect of my tenderness.\" \"I know\nall,\" said the Princess, with a voice interrupted by sobs--\"I know all\nthe misery that may happen to me; but, ungrateful man! it is of you I\nhave most to complain.\" \"Oh, heavens!\" cried Zirphil, \"what have you\nto reproach me with?\" \"The love which Camion bears to you,\" replied\nthe voice, \"and the tenderness with which you have kissed her hand.\"\n\"The tenderness,\" replied the Prince, quickly; \"oh! divine Princess, do\nyou know so little of that I feel for you as to accuse me so lightly.\nBesides, even if Camion could love me, which is impossible, as she only\nsaw me for a moment, can you be alarmed, knowing my love for you, and\nafter the proofs which I have given you of my attachment? It is you\nwhom I should accuse of injustice: for if I have looked at her with\nany attention, it is because her features reminded me of yours, and\nthat being deprived of the pleasure of beholding you, anything which\nresembled you gave me the greatest gratification. Be visible again, my\ndear Princess, and I will never look on any other woman.\"\n\nThe invisible lady appeared to be consoled by these words, and\napproaching the Prince, said, \"Pardon me this little movement of\njealousy. I have too much reason to fear they will separate me from\nyou, not to feel afflicted by a circumstance which appeared to me to\nannounce the commencement of that misfortune.\" \"But,\" said the Prince,\n\"may I not know why you are no longer permitted to show yourself?\nFor if I have delivered you from the tyranny of Marmotte, how is it\npossible that you should be again subjected to it?\" \"Alas!\" said the\ninvisible Princess, \"if you had decided to flay me we should have\nbeen very happy; but you had such a horror of that proposition, that\nI did not dare press you further on the subject.\" \"By what chance,\"\ninterrupted the Prince, \"was Camion informed of this adventure, for she\ntold me nearly the same thing?\"\n\nHardly had he finished these words, when the Princess uttered a\nfrightful shriek. The Prince, in surprise, rose hastily. But what\nwas his alarm when, in the middle of the apartment, he perceived the\nhideous Marmotte, who held by the hair the beautiful Princess, now no\nlonger either half a whale or invisible! He was about to seize his\nsword when the Princess, in tears, begged him to moderate his anger,\nfor it would be of no avail against the power of the Fairy; and the\nhorrible Marmotte, grinding her teeth, emitted through them a blue\nflame which scorched his beard. \"Prince Zirphil,\" said she to him,\n\"a fairy who protects thee prevents me from exterminating thee, thy\nfather, thy mother, and all that belong to thee: but thou shalt suffer\nat least in all that is most dear to thee, for having married without\nhaving consulted me, and thy torment shall never finish, nor that of\nthy Princess, until thou shalt have obeyed my commands.\"\n\nIn finishing these words the Fairy, the Princess, the chamber, and\nthe palace, all disappeared together, and he found himself in his own\napartment, in his night-dress, and his sword in his hand. He was so\nastonished, and so transported with rage, that he did not feel the\nseverity of the cold, though it was in the depth of winter. At the\nnoise which he made his guards entered the room and begged him to go to\nbed, or to allow them to dress him. He took the latter course, and went\nto the Queen's chamber, who, on her part, had passed the night in the\nmost cruel state of anxiety. She had not been able to sleep after going\nto bed, and in order to induce slumber she had wished to talk over her\ngrief with little Camion; but she sought in vain for her in her case:\nCamion was no longer there. She feared she might have lost her in the\ngarden: she rose, and having ordered flambeaux to be lighted, went in\nsearch of her, but without success--she had entirely disappeared, and\nthe Queen retired to bed again in an alarming state of affliction; she\ngave fresh vent to it as her son entered. He was so distressed himself\nthat he did not perceive the tears of the Queen. She, on her part,\nobserving his agitation, exclaimed, \"Ah! without doubt, you have come\nto announce to me some dreadful tidings!\"\n\n\"Yes, Madam,\" replied the Prince; \"I come to tell you that I shall die\nif I do not find my Princess.\" \"How!\" said the Queen; \"do you already,\nmy dear son, love that unhappy Princess?\" \"What, your Camion?\" said\nthe Prince: \"can you suspect me, Madam, of such a thing? I speak of my\ndear Whale-Princess who has been torn from me; it is for her alone that\nI live, and it is Marmotte, the cruel Marmotte, who has carried her\naway!\" \"Ah, my son,\" said the Queen, \"I am far more unhappy than you,\nfor if they have taken your Princess away from you, they have robbed me\nof my Camion. Since last evening, she has disappeared from her case!\"\n\nThey then related to each other their respective adventures, and wept\ntogether over their common misfortunes. The King was informed of the\ncries and despair of the Queen, and the grief of his son. He entered\nthe apartment in which this tragic scene was passing, and as he was\nan exceedingly clever man, the thought occurred to him immediately of\nadvertising Camion, with the offer of a large reward to whoever should\nbring her back. Everybody agreed this was a capital idea, and even the\nQueen, in spite of her great grief, was obliged to confess that no one\nof ordinary capacity could have imagined so singular an expedient. The\nhandbills were printed, and distributed, and the Queen became rather\ncalm in the hope of soon hearing some tidings of her little Princess.\nAs for Zirphil, the loss of Camion interested him no more than her\npresence; he resolved to seek a fairy of whom he had heard speak. He\nasked permission of the King and Queen, and departed with a single\nequerry in attendance on him.\n\nIt was a great distance from that country to the one inhabited by the\nFairy; but neither time nor obstacles could check the fond impatience\nof the youthful Zirphil. He passed through states and kingdoms without\nnumber: nothing particular happened to him because he did not desire\nit; for being handsome as Cupid and brave as his own sword, he would\nhave had no lack of adventures had he sought for them.\n\nAt length, after a year's travelling, he arrived at the commencement of\nthe desert wherein the Fairy had fixed her abode; he dismounted from\nhis horse, and left his equerry in a little cottage, with orders to\nawait him there, and not to be impatient. He entered the desert, which\nwas frightful from its solitude; screech-owls alone inhabited it, but\ntheir cries did not alarm the valiant spirit of our Prince.\n\nOne evening, he perceived at a distance a light which made him think he\nwas approaching the grotto; for who but a fairy could live in such a\nhorrible desert. He walked all night long; at length, at break of day,\nhe discovered the famous grotto; but a lake of fire separated him from\nit, and all his valour could not protect him from the flames, which\nspread right and left. He looked about for a long time to see what he\ncould do, and his courage nearly failed him when he found that there\nwas not even a bridge. Despair proved his best friend, for in a frenzy\nof love and anguish, he resolved to end his days in the lake, if he\ncould not traverse it. No sooner had he taken this strange resolution\nthan he put it in execution, and throwing himself bodily into the\nflames, he felt a little gentle warmth which did not even inconvenience\nhim, and passed without the least trouble to the other side. Hardly had\nhe landed, when a young and beautiful Salamander emerged from the lake,\nand said, \"Prince Zirphil, if your love be as great as your courage,\nyou may hope for everything from the Fairy Lumineuse; she favours you,\nbut she wishes to prove you.\"\n\nZirphil made a profound bow to the Salamander in acknowledgment, for\nshe did not give him time to speak; she plunged again into the flames,\nand he pursued his way. He arrived at length at the foot of a rock of\nprodigious height, which from its great brilliancy appeared all on\nfire. It was a carbuncle, so large that the Fairy was very commodiously\nlodged in the inside. As soon as the Prince approached, Lumineuse came\nout of the rock; he prostrated himself before her, she raised him, and\nmade him enter the grotto.\n\n\"Prince Zirphil,\" said she, \"a power equal to mine has neutralized\nthe benefits I bestowed on you at your birth; but you may hope for\neverything from my care. It requires as much patience as courage to\nfoil the wickedness of Marmotte; I can tell you nothing more.\" \"At\nleast, madam,\" replied the Prince, \"do me the favour to inform me if\nmy beautiful Princess is unhappy, and if I may hope to see her again\nsoon?\" \"She is not unhappy,\" replied the Fairy: \"but you cannot see her\ntill you have pounded her in the mortar of the King of the Whiting.\"\n\"Oh! heavens!\" cried the Prince; \"is she in his power; and have I to\ndread not only the consequences of his passion, but the still greater\nhorror of pounding her with my own hands?\" \"Summon up your courage,\"\nreplied the Fairy, \"and do not hesitate to obey; upon that depends all\nyour happiness, and that of your wife.\" \"But she will die if I pound\nher,\" said the Prince, \"and I would rather die myself.\" \"Away,\" said\nthe Fairy, \"and do not argue; each moment that you lose adds to the\nfury of Marmotte. Go and seek the King of the Whiting; tell him you are\nthe page I promised to send him, and rely on my protection.\"\n\nShe then pointed out to him on a map the road he must take to reach\nthe dominions of the King of the Whiting; and took her leave of him,\nafter having informed him that the ring which the Princess had given\nhim would show him all he had to do whenever the King commanded him to\nexecute a difficult task.\n\nHe departed, and after some days' travelling arrived in a meadow which\nstretched down to the sea, to the shore of which was moored a small\nsailing-vessel of mother-of-pearl and gold. He looked at his ruby, and\nsaw himself in it going on board the vessel. He therefore stepped into\nit, and after having cast off, the wind took it out to sea. After some\nhours' sail, the vessel brought up at the foot of a crystal castle,\nbuilt upon wooden piles. He jumped ashore, and entered a court-yard\nwhich led through a magnificent vestibule to apartments without number,\nthe walls of which were of rock crystal, admirably cut, and which\nproduced the most beautiful effect in the world. The castle appeared\nto be inhabited only by men with fishes' heads of all species. He\nfelt convinced this was the dwelling of the King of the Whiting, and\nshuddered with rage; but he restrained himself so far as to inquire of\na turbot, who had the air of being a captain of the guard, how he could\nmanage to see the King of the Whiting. The man-turbot very gravely made\nhim a signal to advance, and he entered the guard-chamber, where he saw\nunder arms a thousand men with pikes' heads, who formed in line for him\nto pass.\n\nAt length, after making his way through an infinite crowd of men-fish,\nhe came to the throne-room. There was not much noise, for the courtiers\nwere all dumb, the greater part having whiting's heads. He saw several\nwho appeared of more consequence than the rest, from the crowd which\nsurrounded them, and by the air which they assumed with the others.\nThey arrived at the King's cabinet, out of which he saw the council\nissue, composed of twelve men who had sharks' heads. The King at length\nappeared himself. He had a whiting's head, like many of the others;\nbut he had fins on his shoulders, and from his waist downwards he was\na veritable whiting. He could speak, and wore only a scarf made of the\nskin of goldfish, which was very brilliant, and a helmet in the form of\na crown, out of which arose a codfish's tail, which formed the plume.\nFour whiting carried him in a bowl of Japanese porcelain, as large as\na bath, full of sea water. His greatest pride consisted in causing it\nto be filled twice a day by the dukes and peers of his kingdom. This\noffice was extremely sought after.\n\nThe King of the Whiting was very large, and had more the air of a\nmonster than of anything else. When he had spoken to some of those\nwho had presented him with petitions, he perceived the Prince. \"Who\nare you, my friend?\" said he to him. \"By what chance do I see a man\nhere?\" \"My lord,\" said Zirphil, \"I am the page the Fairy Lumineuse has\npromised you.\" \"I know what she means,\" said the King, laughing, and\nshowing his teeth, like those of a saw. \"Lead him into my seraglio,\nand let him teach my crayfish to talk.\" Immediately a troop of whiting\nsurrounded him, and conducted him according to the King's orders. In\nreturning through the apartments all the fish, even those the highest\nin favour, professed, by various signs, a great deal of friendship for\nhim. They led him through a delicious garden, at the end of which was\na charming pavilion, built entirely of mother-of-pearl, and ornamented\nwith great branches of coral. The favourite Whiting introduced him\ninto an apartment similarly adorned, the windows of which overlooked a\nmagnificent piece of water. They made him understand that that was to\nbe his residence, and after having shown him a little chamber at one\ncorner of the saloon, which he understood was to be his bed-room, they\nretired, and he remained alone, very much astonished to find himself\nsomething very like a prisoner in the palace of his rival.\n\nHe was meditating on this position of affairs, when he saw the doors of\nthe chamber open, and ten or twelve thousand crayfish, conducted by one\nlarger than the rest, entered, and placed themselves in straight lines,\nwhich nearly filled the apartment. The one which marched at their head\nmounted upon a table near him, and said, \"Prince, I know you, and you\nowe much to my care; but as it is rare to find gratitude in men, I will\nnot tell you what I have done for you, for fear you should destroy the\nsentiments with which you have inspired me. I have only, therefore,\nto inform you that these are the crayfish of the King of the Whiting,\nthat they alone speak in this empire, and that you are chosen to teach\nthem refined language, the customs of the world, and the means of\npleasing their sovereign. You will find them intelligent; but you must\nevery morning choose ten to pound in the King's mortar, to make his\nbroth.\"[37]\n\nThe Crayfish having ceased speaking, the Prince replied, \"I had no\nidea, Madam, that you had interested yourself in my concerns. The\ngratitude I already feel towards you should induce you to abandon the\nbad opinion you have conceived of men in general, since on the bare\nassurance which you have given me of your friendship, I feel deeply\nobliged to you. But what I am very anxious to learn is, the course I\nshould take in reasoning with the persons whose education you would\nconfide to me. If I were sure that they had as much intellect as you, I\nshould have no trouble, and I should feel a pride in the task; but the\nmore difficult I should find them to teach, the less should I have the\ncourage to punish them for faults for which they are not responsible.\nAnd having lived with them, how can I have the heart to deliver them\nto a torture?\" \"You are obstinate and a great talker,\" interrupted the\nCrayfish; \"but we know how to subdue you.\" So saying, she rose from the\ntable, and jumping to the ground, took her real form of Marmotte (for\nshe was that wicked fairy). \"Oh, heavens!\" cried the Prince; \"so this\nis the person who boasts of the interest she takes in my affairs--she\nwho has done nothing but make me miserable. Ah, Lumineuse,\" continued\nhe, \"you abandon me!\" He had hardly finished these words, when Marmotte\nprecipitated herself by the window into the reservoir and disappeared,\nand he remained alone with the twelve thousand crayfish.\n\nAfter having meditated a little as to how he should proceed to educate\nthem, during which time they waited in complete silence, it occurred\nto him that he might very probably find amongst them his beautiful and\nunfortunate Princess, because the hideous Marmotte had ordered him\nto pound ten of them every morning. \"And why should I be selected to\npound them,\" said he, \"if it be not to drive me distracted? Never mind,\nlet us look for her,\" continued he, rising; \"let us at least try to\nrecognise her, even if I die of grief before her eyes.\" Then he asked\nthe crayfish if they would kindly permit him to search amongst them for\none of his acquaintance. \"We know nothing about it, my Lord,\" said the\nfirst who spoke; \"but you can make what inquiry you please up to the\ntime of our return to the reservoir, for we must positively pass the\nnight there.\" Zirphil commenced his inspection; the more he sought, the\nless he discovered, but he surmised, from the few words which he drew\nfrom those he interrogated, that they were all princesses transformed\nby the wickedness of Marmotte. This caused him inconsolable grief, for\nhe had to choose ten for the King's broth.\n\nWhen evening came, they repeated that they must retire to the\nreservoir, and it was not without pain that he relinquished the sweet\noccupation of seeking the Princess. He had only been able in the whole\nday to interrogate a hundred and fifty; but as he was certain at least\nthat she was not amongst them, he determined to take ten from that\nnumber; he had no sooner chosen them than he proceeded to carry them\nto the King's offices; but he was arrested by the most astonishing\npeals of laughter from the victims he was about to immolate; he was\nso surprised by it, that he was some time without speaking; at length\nhe interrupted them to inquire what it was they found so amusing in\ntheir present circumstances? They renewed their shouts of laughter so\nheartily that he could not help, in spite of his own sorrows, partaking\nin their mirth. They wanted to speak, but could not for laughing; they\ncould only ejaculate, \"Oh, I can say no more!\" \"Oh, I shall die of it!\"\n\"No, there is nothing in the world so amusing!\" and then roared again.\nAt length he reached the Palace with them all laughing together, and\nhaving shown them to a pike-headed man, who seemed to be the principal\ncook, a mortar of green porphyry, ornamented with gold, was set before\nhim, into which he put his ten crayfish, and prepared to pound them.\nAt that moment the bottom of the mortar opened, emitted a brilliant\nflame, which dazzled the Prince, and then closing up again, appeared\nperfectly empty; even the crayfish had vanished. This astonished, but\nat the same time gratified him, for he was very reluctant to pound such\nmerry creatures. The man-pike, on the contrary, seemed sadly distressed\nat this adventure, and wept bitterly. The Prince was as much surprised\nat this as he was at the laughter of the crayfish, and he could not\nascertain the cause, as the pike's-head was dumb.\n\nHe returned, much disturbed by his adventure, to his pretty apartment,\nwhere he no longer found the crayfish, for they had returned to the\nreservoir. The following morning, they re-entered without Marmotte;\nhe sought for his Princess, and still not discovering her, he again\nchose ten of the finest for pounding. The same adventure occurred--they\nlaughed, and the man-pike wept when they disappeared in the flame. For\nthree months this extraordinary scene was daily repeated; he heard\nnothing of the King of the Whiting, and he was only uneasy at not\ndiscovering his beautiful Princess.\n\nOne evening, returning from the kitchen to his own apartments, he\ntraversed the King's gardens, and passing near a palisade which\nsurrounded a charming plantation, in the midst of which was a little\nsparkling fountain, he heard some one speaking; this surprised him, for\nhe believed all the inhabitants of that kingdom to be as dumb as those\nhe had seen. He advanced gently, and heard a voice, which said,--\"But\nPrincess, if you do not discover yourself, your husband will never\nfind you.\" \"What can I do?\" said the other voice, which he recognised\nas that he had so often heard. \"The cruelty of Marmotte compels me\nto remain silent, and I cannot discover myself without risking his\nlife as well as my own. The wise Lumineuse, who aids him, conceals\nmy features from him in order to preserve us to each other: he must\nabsolutely pound me, it is an irrevocable sentence.\" \"But why should\nhe pound you?\" inquired the other. \"You have never yet told me your\nhistory; Citronette, your confidante, would have related it to me had\nshe not last week been chosen for the King's broth.\" \"Alas!\" replied\nthe Princess, \"that unfortunate has already undergone the torture which\nI await; would that I were in her place, for assuredly by this time she\nis in her grotto.\" \"But,\" rejoined the other voice, \"as it is such a\nbeautiful night, tell me now why you are subjected to the vengeance of\nMarmotte. I have already told you who I am, and I burn with impatience\nto know more about you.\" \"Although it will renew my grief,\" replied the\nPrincess, \"I cannot refuse to satisfy you, especially as I must speak\nof Zirphil, and I take pleasure in all that relates to him.\"\n\nOne may easily judge of the delight which the Prince felt at this\nfortunate moment; he glided gently into the plantation, but as it was\nvery dark he saw nothing; he listened, however, with all his ears, and\nthis is word for word what he heard:--\n\n\"My father was King of a country near Mount Caucasus; he reigned to\nthe best of his ability over a people of incredible wickedness; there\nwere perpetual revolts, and often the windows of his Palace were broken\nby the stones which they hurled against them. The Queen, my mother,\nwho was a very accomplished woman, composed speeches for him to make\nto the disaffected; but if he succeeded in appeasing them one day,\nthe next produced a new trouble. The judges were tired of condemning\nto death, and the executioners of hanging. At length things arrived\nat such a pitch that my father, seeing all our provinces were uniting\nagainst us, resolved to withdraw from the capital, that he might no\nlonger witness so many disagreeable scenes. He took the Queen with\nhim, and left the kingdom to the government of one of his ministers,\nwho was very wise, and less timid than the King, my father. My mother\nwas expecting my birth, and travelled with some difficulty to the foot\nof Mount Caucasus, where my father had chosen his habitation. Our\nwicked subjects fired the guns for joy at their departure, and next day\nstrangled our minister, saying that he wished to carry matters with\ntoo high a hand, and that they much preferred their old Sovereign.\nMy father was not at all flattered by their preference, and remained\nconcealed in his little retreat, where very soon I saw the light.\n\n\"They named me Camion, because I was so very diminutive.[38] Moreover,\nthe King and Queen, tired of the honours which had cost them so dear,\nand wishing to conceal my high birth from me, brought me up as a\nshepherdess. At the end of ten years (which appeared to them like ten\nminutes, so happy were they in their retreat), the fairies of the\nCaucasus, indignant at the wickedness of the people who inhabited our\nkingdom, resolved to restore order in it. One day that I was tending my\nsheep in the meadow which adjoined our garden, two old shepherdesses\naccosted me, and begged me to give them shelter for the night; they had\nsuch a sad dejected air that my soul was moved with compassion. 'Follow\nme,' said I; 'my father, who is a farmer, will receive you willingly.'\nI ran to the cottage to announce their arrival to him; he came to meet\nthem, and received them with much kindness, as did my mother also. I\nthen brought in my sheep, and set milk before our guests. Meanwhile,\nmy father prepared them a nice little supper, and the Queen, who, as I\nbefore told you, was a clever woman, entertained them wonderfully.\n\n\"I had a little lamb which I loved excessively; my father called to\nme to bring it to him that he might kill it and roast it. I was not\naccustomed to dispute his will, and therefore took it to him; but I\nwas so distressed at having to do so that I went and sat down weeping\nbeside my mother, who was so occupied in talking to these good women\nthat she took no notice of me. 'What is the matter with little Camion?'\nsaid one of them, who saw me in tears. 'Alas, Madam!' said I to her,\n'my father is roasting my pet lamb for your suppers.' 'How?' said the\none who had not yet spoken, 'is it on our account that pretty Camion\nis thus distressed?' Then rising and striking the ground with her\nstick, a table rose out of it magnificently covered, and the two old\nwomen became two beautiful ladies, in dresses so dazzling with precious\nstones, that I was struck motionless, so much so, indeed, that I paid\nno attention when my little lamb bounded into the room, and made a\nthousand leaps, which much amused the company. I ran at length to him,\nafter having kissed the hands of the beautiful ladies; but I was quite\namazed to find his wool all of silver purl, and covered with knots of\nrose-coloured ribbon.\n\n\"My father and mother paid every attention to the Fairies, for such I\nneed not tell you they were both. They raised the King and Queen, who\nhad fallen at their feet. 'King and Queen,' said she who was the most\nmajestic, 'we have known you for a long time past, and your misfortunes\nhave excited our pity. Do not imagine that greatness exempts any one\nfrom the ills attached to humanity. You must know by experience that\nthe more elevated the rank the more keenly are they felt. Your patience\nand virtue have raised you above your misfortunes: it is time to give\nyou your reward. I am the Fairy Lumineuse, and I come to ask what\nwould be most agreeable to your majesties. Speak, and do not fear to\nput our power to the proof; consult together, your wishes shall be\naccomplished; but say nothing respecting Camion--her destiny is apart\nfrom yours. The Fairy Marmotte, envious of the brilliant fate which has\nbeen promised her, has obscured it for a time: but Camion will better\nknow the value of her happiness when she shall have experienced the\nills of life; we will protect her by softening them: that is all we are\npermitted to tell you. Speak; with that exception we can do anything\nfor you.'\n\n\"The Fairies, after this harangue, were silent. The Queen turned to\nthe King that he might reply, for she wept to find I was doomed to be\nunhappy; but my father was no better able than herself to speak: he\nuttered piteous exclamations, and I, seeing them in tears, left my lamb\nto come and weep with them. The Fairies waited with much impatience,\nand in perfect silence, till our tears were ended. At length my mother\npushed the King gently to let him know they were expecting his reply.\nHe took his handkerchief from his eyes and said, that as it was decided\nthat I should be miserable, nothing they could offer him could be\nagreeable to him, and that he refused the happiness which they promised\nhim, as he should always find it embittered by the idea of what I\nhad to dread. The Queen added, seeing that the poor man could say no\nmore, that she begged the Fairies to take their lives on the day when\nmy sad destiny was to be fulfilled, for that her only wish was not to\nbe compelled to witness my misery. The good Fairies, affected by the\nextreme grief which reigned in the royal family, spoke together in a\nwhisper. At length Lumineuse, who had already addressed us, said to the\nQueen, 'Be consoled, Madam; the misfortunes which threaten Camion are\nnot so great but that they may terminate happily; for from the moment\nthat the husband destined for her shall have obeyed the commands of\nfate, she will be happy with him, and the malignity of our sister can\nhave no further power over either. The Prince we have selected is one\nworthy of her; and all we can tell you is, that you must absolutely\nlower your daughter every morning into the well, and that she must\nbathe in it for half-an-hour. If you strictly observe this rule,\nperhaps she may escape the evil with which she is threatened. At twelve\nyears old the critical period of her fate will commence; if she reach\nthe age of thirteen in safety, there will be nothing more to fear. That\nis all which regards her. Now wish for yourselves, and we can gratify\nyour desires.'\n\n\"The King and Queen looked at each other, and after a short silence,\nthe King asked to become a statue until after I should have completed\nmy thirteenth year; and the Queen limited her request to the modest one\nthat the temperature of the well in which I was to be dipped should be\nalways according to the season. The fairies, charmed at this excess of\nparental tenderness, added that the water should be orangeflower water,\nand that the King, whenever the Queen should throw this water over\nhim, should resume his natural form, and again become a statue when he\npleased. At length they took leave of us, after having lauded the King\nand Queen for their moderation, and promised to assist them whenever\nthey should require it, by burning a bit of the silver purl with which\nmy lamb was covered.\n\n\"They vanished, and I felt real anguish for the first time in my life,\nat seeing my father become a great statue of black marble. The Queen\nburst into tears, and I also; but at length, as everything has an end,\nI ceased to cry, and occupied myself in consoling my mother, for I felt\na sudden increase both of sense and sensibility.\n\n\"The Queen passed her life at the feet of the statue, and I, after\nhaving bathed as they had ordered me, went to milk my ewes. Upon that\nfood we lived, for the Queen would not take anything else, and it was\nonly from love to me that she could be prevailed on to preserve an\nexistence, which to her was so full of bitterness. 'Alas! my daughter,'\nsaid she, sometimes, 'of what use to us have been our grandeur and\nour high birth? (for she no longer concealed from me my rank.) 'Would\nit not have been better to have been born in a lower sphere, since a\ncrown draws down on us such great misfortunes? Virtue, and my affection\nfor you, my dear Camion, alone enable me to support them; but there\nare moments when my soul seems impatient to leave me, and I confess\nI feel pleasure in imagining that I shall soon die. It is not for me\nyou should weep,' added she, 'but for your father, whose grief, still\ngreater than mine, has carried him so far as to make him desire a worse\nfate than ceasing to live. Never forget, my dear, the gratitude you owe\nhim.' 'Alas! Madam,' said I, 'I am not capable of ever forgetting it,\nand still less can I forget that you have wished to live in order to\nassist me.'\n\n\"I was bathed regularly every day, and my mother was sadly distressed\nto see the King always an inanimate statue. She dared not, however,\nrecall him to life, fearing to inflict on him the pain of witnessing\nthe misfortune with which I was threatened. The Fairies not having\nspecified what it was, we were in mortal fear. The Queen especially\nfancied no end of frightful things, because her imagination had an\nunlimited field to range over. As for me, I did not trouble myself much\nabout it, so true is it that youth is the only time when we enjoy the\npresent.\n\n\"My mother told me repeatedly that she felt a great desire to bring my\nfather to life again, and I had the same inclination. At length, after\nsix months, finding that the Fairies' bath had greatly embellished\nboth my person and mind, she resolved to gratify this longing, if but\nto give the King the pleasure of seeing my improvement. She therefore\ndesired me to bring her some water from the well. Accordingly, after\nmy bath, I drew up a vase of this marvellous water, and the statue was\nno sooner sprinkled with it, than my father became a man again. The\nQueen threw herself at his feet, to ask pardon for having troubled his\nrepose. He raised her, and embracing her tenderly, forgave her readily,\nand she presented me to him.\n\n\"I am ashamed to tell you that he was both delighted and surprised.\nFor how can you believe me, beautiful Princess?\" said the voice,\nhesitatingly, \"me, the most hideous of crayfish?\" \"Alas! I can well\nbelieve you,\" replied the one to whom she spoke; \"I also might boast\nof being handsome, but is it possible to appear so in these frightful\nshells? Pray continue, however, for I am eager to hear the rest of your\nhistory.\" \"Well, then,\" said the other voice, \"the King was enchanted\nwith me, loaded me with caresses, and asked the Queen if she had any\nnews to tell him. 'Alas!' said she, 'who in this desert should come\nto tell me any? Besides, being occupied solely in lamenting your\ntransformation, I have taken little interest in the world, which is\nnothing to me without you.' 'Well,' said the King, 'I will tell you\nsome news, then; for do not think that I have been always asleep.\nThe Fairies who protect us have disclosed to me the punishment of my\nsubjects. They have made an immense pond of my kingdom, and all the\ninhabitants are men-fish. A nephew of the Fairy Marmotte, whom they\nhave set up as their king, persecutes them with unequalled cruelty:\nhe devours them for the least fault; and at the end of a certain time\na prince will arrive who will dethrone him, and reign in his stead.\nIt is in this kingdom that Camion will be made perfectly happy. This\nis all that I know; and it was not a bad way of passing my time' said\nhe, laughing, 'to have discovered these things. The Fairies came every\nnight to inform me of what was doing, and I should perhaps have known\nmuch more if you had let me remain a statue a little longer; but,\nhowever, I am so delighted to see you once more, that I do not think I\nshall very soon wish to become a statue again.'\n\n\"We passed some time in the happiest manner possible. The King and\nQueen, notwithstanding, were rather anxious when they thought of my\napproaching the age of thirteen. As the Queen bathed me with great\ncare, she hoped that the prediction would not be fulfilled. But who can\nboast of escaping their destiny? One morning that the Queen had risen\nearly, and was gathering some flowers to decorate our cottage, because\nthe King was fond of them, she saw come out from beneath a tube-rose an\nugly animal, something like a marmot. This beast threw itself on her,\nand bit her nose. She fainted with the pain which this bite occasioned\nher, and my father, at the end of an hour, not seeing her return, went\nto seek her. Judge of his consternation at finding her nearly dead, and\ncovered with blood! He uttered fearful cries. I ran to his assistance,\nand we together carried the Queen into the house, and placed her in\nbed, where she was two hours without coming to herself. At length she\nbegan to give some signs of life, and we had the pleasure of seeing her\nvery shortly recovered, except from the pain of the bite, which caused\nher much suffering.\n\n\"She asked directly if I had been to bathe: but we had quite forgotten\nit in our anxiety about her. She was much alarmed at hearing this;\nhowever, seeing that as yet no accident had happened to me, she became\nre-assured, and related to us her adventure, which surprised us\nimmensely.\n\n\"The day passed over without any other trouble; the King had taken his\ngun and sought in every direction for the horrid beast without finding\nit. The next day at sunrise the Queen awoke and came to fetch me, to\nrepair the fault of the preceding morning; she lowered me into the\nwell as usual, but alas, fatal and unlucky day! at this same instant,\nalthough the heavens were quite serene, a dreadful clap of thunder rent\nthe air, the sky seemed suddenly all on fire, and from a burning cloud\nthere issued a flaming dart which flew into the well. My mother in her\nfright let go the cord which held me, and I sank to the bottom, without\nhurting myself, it is true, but horrified at discovering that I was\npartially transformed into an enormous fish which they call a whale. I\nrose to the surface again, and called the Queen with all my power. She\ndid not reply. I was sadly afflicted and wept bitterly, as much for\nher loss as at my metamorphosis, when I felt that an invisible power\nforced me to descend to the bottom of the well. Having reached it, I\nentered a grotto of crystal, where I found a species of Nymph, ugly\nenough, for she was like an immensely fat frog. However, she smiled at\nmy approach, and said to me--'Camion, I am the Nymph of the Bottomless\nWell; I have orders to receive thee, and to make thee undergo the\npenance to which thou art sentenced for having failed to bathe; follow\nme, and do not remonstrate.'\n\n\"What, alas, could I do? I was so distressed and so faint at finding\nmyself on dry ground, that I had not the strength to speak. She dragged\nme, not without pain, into a saloon of green marble which was near\nthe grotto; she there put me into an immense golden tub filled with\nwater, and I then began to recover my senses. The good Nymph appeared\ndelighted at this. 'I am called Citronette,' said she to me; 'I am\nappointed to wait on thee; thou canst order me to do anything thou\nwilt--I know perfectly well both the past and the present; as for the\nfuture, it is not my province to penetrate it. Command me, and at least\nI can render the time of thy penance less irksome to thee.'\n\n\"I embraced the good Citronette at these words, and related to her the\nevents of my life. I then inquired of her what had become of the King\nand Queen. She was about to reply, when a hideous marmot, as large\nas a human being, entered the saloon, and froze me with horror. She\nwalked upon her hind legs, and leant upon a gold wand, which gave her\na dignified air. She approached the tub, in which I would willingly\nhave drowned myself, I was so frightened, and raising her wand, with\nwhich she touched me--'Camion,' said she, 'thou art in my power, and\nnothing can release thee but thy obedience and that of the husband whom\nmy sisters have destined for thee. Listen to me, and cast off this\nfear, which does not befit a person of your rank. Since thine infancy\nI wished to take care of thee, and to marry thee to my nephew, the\nKing of the Whiting. Lumineuse, and two or three other of my sisters,\ncombined to deprive me of this right; I was provoked, and not being\nable to revenge myself on them, I resolved to punish thee for their\naudacity. I doomed thee, therefore, to be a whale for at least half\nthe term of thy existence. My sisters protested so strongly against\nwhat they called my injustice, that I diminished my vengeance by\nthree-quarters and a half; but I reserved to myself the right of\nmarrying thee to my nephew in return for my complaisance. Lumineuse,\nwho is imperious, and unfortunately my superior, would not listen to\nthis arrangement, because she had destined thee, before me, to a Prince\nwhom she protected. I was compelled then to consent to her plan, in\nspite of my resentment; all that I could obtain was that the first who\nshould deliver you from my claws should be thy husband. Here are their\nportraits,' continued she, showing me two gold miniature cases, 'which\nwill enable thee to recognise them: but if one of them come to deliver\nthee, he must betroth himself to thee whilst thou art in the tub, and\nbefore thou canst leave it, he must tear off the skin of the whale;\nwithout that, thou wilt always remain a fish. My nephew would not\nhesitate a moment to execute that order; but the favourite of Lumineuse\nwill consider it a horrible task, for he has the air of a very delicate\nlittle gentleman. Set, then, thy wits to work to make him skin thee,\nand after that thou shalt be no longer unhappy, if to be a beautiful\nwhale, very fat and well fed, and up to the neck in water, can be\ncalled unhappiness.'\n\n\"To these words I made no reply, but remained very dejected, as much at\nmy present state as by the thought of scaling to which I must submit.\n\n\"Marmotte disappeared, leaving with me the two miniature cases. I wept\nover my misfortunes and my situation, without dreaming of looking at\nthe portraits, when the good and sympathising Citronette said to me,\n'Come, we must not lament over ills which cannot be remedied. Let us\nsee if I cannot help to console you; but first, try not to weep so\nmuch, for I have a tender heart, and I cannot see your tears without\nfeeling inclined to mingle mine with them. Let us chase them away by\nlooking at these portraits.'\n\n\"So saying, she opened the first case, and showing it to me, we both\nuttered shrieks like Melusine's[39] at seeing a hideous whiting's head,\npainted, it is true, with all the advantages which could be given to\nit; but, in spite of that, never in the memory of man had anything been\nseen so ugly. 'Take away that object,' cried I to her; 'I cannot bear\nthe sight of it longer. I would rather be a whale all my life than\nmarry that horrible Whiting!'\n\n\"She did not give me time to finish my imprecations on this monster,\nbut said, 'Behold this darling young man! Oh, as for him, would he but\nskin you I should be delighted.' I looked hastily to see if what she\nsaid was true; I was only too soon convinced. A noble and charming\ncountenance presented itself to my view; fine eyes full of tenderness\nembellished a face which was both mild and majestic; an air of\nintellectuality was spread over it, which completed the fascination of\nthis delightful painting; a profusion of black hair, curling naturally,\ngave an air to it which Citronette mistook for indifference, but which\nI interpreted, and I think rightly, as conveying a precisely opposite\nsentiment.\n\n\"I contemplated this beautiful face with a pleasure of which I was\nscarcely conscious. Citronette remarked it first. 'Without a doubt,'\ncried she, 'that is the one we will choose.' This bantering roused\nme from my reverie, and colouring at my own ecstasy, 'Why should I\ntrouble myself,' said I; 'ah, my dear Citronette, this appears to me\nvery like another trick of that cruel Marmotte; she has exhausted her\nart in endeavouring to make me regret the impossibility of finding\na similar object in nature.' 'What,' said Citronette, 'already such\ntender reflections on this portrait? Ah! truly, I did not expect that\nso soon.' I blushed again at this jest, and became quite embarrassed\nat finding that I had too innocently betrayed the effect which this\nbeautiful painting had produced on my heart. Citronette again read my\nthoughts. 'No, no,' said she, embracing me, 'do not repent of this\navowal, your frankness charms me; and to console you, I will tell you\nthat Marmotte does not deceive you, and that there is in the world a\nPrince who is the veritable original of the picture.'\n\n\"This assurance filled me with joy at the moment; but the next instant\nthat feeling departed, when I remembered that this Prince would never\nsee me, as I was in the depths of the earth, and that Marmotte, by\nher power, would sooner enable her monster of a nephew to penetrate\nmy abode than give the least assistance to a prince whom she hated,\nbecause they had destined me to him without her consent. I no longer\nconcealed what I thought from Citronette; the attempt, indeed, would\nhave been useless, for she read with surprising facility the utmost\nsecret of my thoughts; I therefore preferred to take the credit of\ncandour; she deserved my confidence for her attachment to me, and I\nfound it a great consolation, for I have felt from that time that when\nthe heart is filled with one object there is much happiness in being\nable to speak of it. In fact, I loved from that moment, and Citronette\ndissipated, with much address and clear-sightedness, the confusion and\ntrouble which the commencement of a violent passion produces in the\nmind. She soothed my grief by allowing me to speak of it; and when I\nhad exhausted words, she gently changed the conversation, which almost\nalways, however, bore upon my troubles or my affection.\n\n\"She had informed me that the King, my father, was transported to the\nabode of the King of the Whiting; and that the Queen, at the moment\nthat she lost me, had become a crayfish. I could not understand this.\n'One cannot become a crayfish,' said I. 'Can you better understand how\nyou have become a whale?' said she.\n\n\"She was right; but we are often surprised at things which happen\nto others, although we have in ourselves still greater subject for\nastonishment. My small experience was the cause of this. Citronette\nlaughed frequently at my innocence, and was surprised to find me so\neloquent in my affection, for truly I was so on that subject; and I\nfound that love throws much light into the mind. I could not sleep;\nI woke the good-natured Citronette an hundred times in the night to\ntalk to her of my Prince; she had told me his name, and that he hunted\nalmost every day in the forest beneath which I was interred. She\nproposed to me to try to attract him to our dwelling, but I would not\nconsent, although I was dying to do so. I was afraid that he would die\nfor want of air; we were accustomed to it, that was a different thing;\nI feared also that it would be too great a freedom; besides, I was in\ndespair at appearing to him in the form of a whale, and I measured his\naversion for me by that which the portrait of the King of the Whiting\nhad inspired me with. Citronette re-assured me, telling me that spite\nof the whale's body my face was charming. I believed it sometimes,\nbut more often I was uneasy, and after having looked at myself, I\ncould not imagine I was sufficiently handsome to inspire with love one\nwho had made me so well acquainted with it. My self-love came to the\nsupport of my prudence. Alas! how rarely it is that our virtues can be\ntraced to purer inspirations.\n\n\"I passed my time in forming projects for obtaining a sight of him,\nand letting him see me, and rejected by turns each that occurred to\nme. Citronette was a great assistance to me at this time; for it must\nbe confessed that she has plenty of sense, and still more gentleness\nand amiability. One day that I was even more sad than usual--for love\nhas the peculiarity of infecting gentle souls with melancholy--I saw\nthe frightful Marmotte enter, with two persons whom I did not at first\nrecognise. I took it into my head that it was her wretched nephew whom\nshe brought with her; I uttered frightful shrieks as they approached me\nhastily. 'Why, she could not cry louder,' said the horrid Marmotte, 'if\nthey were skinning her! Look what terrible harm is done to her!' 'Good\ngracious, sister,' said one of these persons who accompanied her, and\nwhom I then remembered with joy having formerly seen in our village; 'a\ntruce to your stories of skinning, and let us tell Camion what we have\nto tell her.' 'Willingly,' said Marmotte; 'but on the conditions which\nyou are aware of.'\n\n\"'Camion,' said the good Fairy, without replying to Marmotte, 'we\nare too much distressed at your condition not to think of remedying\nit, more especially as you have not deserved it. My sisters and I\nhave resolved to ameliorate it as much as lies in our power. This,\ntherefore, is what we have determined on. You are about to be presented\nat the Court of the Prince to whom I have destined you from your\ninfancy; but, my dear child, you will not appear there as you are,\nand you are commanded to return three nights a week and plunge again\nin your tub; for until you are married'--'and skinned!' interrupted\nthe odious Marmotte, laughing violently. The good Fairy merely turned\ntowards her, shrugging her shoulders, and continued--'Until you are\nmarried you will be a whale in this place. We can tell you no more;\nthe rest you will be informed of by degrees; but above all keep your\nsecret; for if a word escape you which tends to discover it, neither I\nnor my sisters can do anything for you, and you will be delivered up to\nmy sister Marmotte.' 'That is what I expect,' said the wicked Fairy;\n'and I already see her in my power; for a secret kept by a girl would\nbe a phenomenon.' 'That is her own affair,' said Lumineuse (for it was\nshe who had already spoken). 'To proceed, my daughter,' said she, 'you\nwill become a little doll made of ivory, but capable of thinking and\nspeaking; we shall preserve all your features, and I give you a week\nto consider whether what I propose to you will suit you; we will then\nreturn, and you shall tell me if you consent to it, or if you would\nprefer awaiting here the event which must bring you one of the two\nhusbands selected for you.'\n\n\"I had not time to reply; the Fairies departed after these words, and\nleft me astounded by what I had just seen and heard. I remained with\nCitronette, who represented to me that it was a great treat for me to\nbecome an ivory doll. I sighed when I thought that my Prince would\nnever take a fancy to such a bauble; but at length the desire to see\nhim and become acquainted with him overcame the anxiety to please\nhim, and I resolved to accept the proposal which was made to me, and\nthe more readily as Zirphil (for they had mentioned his name) might\npossibly be forestalled by the King of the Whiting, and this idea made\nme nearly die of grief.\n\n\"Citronette told me that Prince Zirphil hunted daily in the forest\nwhich was above us; and I made her take every day the form of a stag,\na hound, or a wild boar, in order that she might bring me some news,\nwhich never failed to be in some way connected with the subject\nwhich occupied my heart. She described him to me as an hundred times\nhandsomer than his picture, and my imagination embellished him to such\na degree that I resolved to see him or to die. But one more day had to\nelapse before the expected arrival of the Fairies, and Citronette, in\nthe form of a wild boar, was roaming the forest to find food for my\ncuriosity, when suddenly I saw her return, followed by the too amiable\nZirphil. I cannot describe to you my joy and astonishment; there are\nno terms which can express them to you. But what enchanted me most\nwas, that this charming Prince appeared equally delighted with me;\nperhaps I desired this too much not to help to deceive myself. However,\nI thought I saw in his eyes that he felt the impression he had made.\nCitronette, more anxious for my happiness than mindful of our ecstasy,\naroused us from it, by begging him either to skin or to marry me. Then\ncoming to myself, and feeling the danger of my situation, I joined in\nher entreaties, and by our prayers and tears induced him to plight me\nhis faith. I had hardly accepted it, when he vanished, I know not how,\nand I found myself in my ordinary form, lying on a good bed; I was\nno longer a whale, but I was still in the depths of the earth in the\ngreen saloon, and Citronette had lost the power of leaving it and of\ntransforming herself.\n\n\"I expected the Fairies in a state of the greatest trepidation. My\nlove had redoubled since I had become personally acquainted with its\nobject, and I feared that my charming husband might be included in\nthe vengeance of the Fairies for not having waited till they could\nwitness my marriage. Citronette had enough to do to re-assure me; I\ncould not overcome my grief and fear. Marmotte appeared with the dawn\nof day, but I neither saw Lumineuse nor her companion; she did not\nseem more irritable than usual; she touched me with her wand without\nspeaking to me, and I became a charming little doll, which she put in\nher toothpick-case, and then transported herself into the presence of\nthe Queen-mother of my betrothed. She gave me to her, with orders to\nmarry me to her son, or to expect all the evil which she was capable of\ninflicting, telling her that I was her goddaughter, and was called the\nPrincess Camion. I took, in fact, a great fancy to my mother-in-law; I\nconsidered her charming, as being the mother of Zirphil, whom I adored,\nand my caresses were returned by her. I was transported every night\ninto the green saloon, and there enjoyed the pleasure of meeting my\nhusband, for the same power acted on him, and transported him likewise\ninto this subterraneous dwelling. I knew not why they forbad me to\ntell him my secret, as I was married; but I kept it in spite of his\nimpatience to know it. You will see,\" continued the speaker, with a\nsigh, \"how impossible it is to avoid one's fate. But it begins to get\nlight, and I feel I am quite tired with being so long out of the water;\nlet us return to the reservoir, and to-morrow, at the same hour, if we\nare not selected for the soup of that worthless King of the Whiting, we\nwill resume the thread of our discourse.--Come, let us go.\"\n\nZirphil heard no more, and himself returned to his apartment, much\nconcerned at not having made known to the Princess his being so near\nher; but the fear of increasing her misfortunes by this indiscretion,\nconsoled him for not having risked it; the misery of knowing she was\nlikely to perish by his hand made him resolve to continue his diligent\nsearch amongst the crayfish.\n\nHe retired to bed, but not to sleep, for he did not close his eyes all\nnight. To have found his Princess in the form of a crayfish, ready\nto be made into soup for the King of the Whiting, appeared to him a\nstill more frightful torment than the death to which he had believed\nher destined. He was sighing and distressing himself cruelly, when he\nwas disturbed by a great noise in the garden; he at first heard it\nconfusedly, but listening attentively, he distinguished flutes and\nconch shells. He rose and went to the window, when he saw the King of\nthe Whiting, accompanied by the dozen sharks who composed his council,\nadvancing towards the pavilion; he hastened to open the door, and the\ntrain having entered, the King first had his tub filled with sea water\nby the peers of the realm who bore it, and after a short repose, and\nmaking the council take their places, he addressed the young Prince,\n\"Whoever you may be,\" said he, \"you have resolved, apparently, to make\nme die of hunger, for you send me every day a broth which I cannot\nswallow; but, young man, I must tell you, that if you are leagued with\nevil powers to poison me, you have taken a very foolish part. As nephew\nof the Fairy Marmotte I am beyond all such attempts, and my life is\nsafe.\"\n\nThe Prince, astonished at being suspected of so base an act, was about\nto reply with haughtiness, but by chance, as he raised his hand, he\ncast his eyes upon his ring, and saw therein Lumineuse, who placed\nher finger on her mouth as a sign to him to be silent; he had not\nbefore thought of consulting his ring, he had been so engrossed by his\ngrief. He accordingly held his tongue: but he betrayed his indignation\nin his countenance, which the sharks remarked, for they made signs\nof approbation, which appeared to say that they did not believe him\ncapable of such a thing. \"Ho, ho!\" said the King, \"as this myrmidon\nappears so angry, we must make him work before us. Let them go to my\nkitchen; let them bring the mortar for the crayfish; I shall give\nmy council a treat.\" Immediately a pike's-head went to execute the\nKing's commands, and during this time the twelve sharks took a large\nnet, which they threw into the reservoir from the window, and drew in\nthree or four thousand crayfish. During the interval that the council\nwas employed in fishing, and the pike's-head in fetching the King's\nmortar, Zirphil reflected, and felt that the most critical moment of\nhis life approached, and that his happiness or misery would depend upon\nhis present conduct. He armed himself with resolution for whatever\nmight come to pass, and placing all his hopes in the Fairy Lumineuse,\nhe implored her to be favourable to him. At the same moment he looked\nat his ring, and saw in it the beautiful Fairy, who made a sign to him\nto pound courageously; this revived him, and took from him some of the\npain he felt at consenting to this cruelty.\n\nAt length the horrid mortar was produced. Zirphil approached it boldly,\nand prepared to obey the King. The council put in the crayfish with\ngreat ceremony, and the Prince tried to pound them; but the same thing\nhappened to them as to the former ones in the kitchen--the bottom of\nthe mortar opened and the flames devoured them. The King and the odious\nsharks amused themselves for a long time with this spectacle, and were\nnever tired of filling the mortar; at length there was but one left\nof the four thousand; it was surprisingly large and fine. The King\ncommanded that it might be shelled, in order to see if he should like\nto eat some of them raw. They gave it to Zirphil to shell; he trembled\nall over at having to inflict this new torture, but still more when\nthis poor fish joined her two claws, and, with her eyes filled with\ntears, said, \"Alas! Zirphil, what have I done to you that you should\nwish to do me so much harm?\"\n\nThe Prince, moved by these words, and his heart pierced with grief,\nlooked at her sadly, and at length took it on himself to beg the\nKing to allow her to be pounded. The King, jealous of his authority,\nand firm in his resolution, was enraged at this humble request, and\nthreatened to pound Zirphil himself if he did not shell it. The\npoor Prince took it again from the hands of the shark to whom he\nhad confided it, and with a little knife which they had given him\nhe tremblingly touched the crayfish; he looked at his ring, and saw\nLumineuse laughing and talking to a veiled person whom she held by\nthe hand. He could not understand this at all, and the King, who did\nnot give him time to reflect, cried out to him so loudly to finish,\nthat the Prince stuck the knife with such force under the shell of the\ncrayfish that it cried piteously; he turned away his eyes from hers,\nand could not help shedding tears. At length he resumed his task,\nbut to his great astonishment he had not finished the shelling when\nhe found in his hands the wicked Marmotte, who jumped to the ground,\nuttering shrieks of laughter so loud and disagreeable in mockery of\nZirphil, that it prevented him from fainting, or he would have fallen\non the floor.\n\nThe King cried in astonishment, \"Why, it is my aunt!\" \"And truly\nit is she,\" said this annoying animal. \"But, my dear Whiting, I\ncome to tell you a terrible piece of news.\" Whiting grew pale at\nthese words, and the council assumed an air of satisfaction, which\nincreased the ill-humour of the King and his terrible aunt. \"The fact\nis, my darling,\" continued Marmotte, \"you must return to your watery\ndominions, for this rash boy whom you see here has chosen to display\na constancy that nothing can shake, and has triumphed over all the\ntraps I set for him to prevent him from carrying off the Princess I had\ndestined for you.\"\n\nAt these words the King of the Whiting fell into such a rage, that he\ncould not contain himself: he committed extravagances which proved he\nwas possessed of the most violent passions. Marmotte tried in vain to\ncalm him; he broke his bowl into a thousand pieces, and, being on dry\nground, he fainted. Marmotte, mad with rage, turned to Zirphil, who had\nremained a quiet spectator of this tragic scene, and said to him, \"Thou\nhast conquered, Zirphil, by the power of a fairy whom I must obey; but\nthou art not yet at the end of thy troubles. Thou canst not be happy\ntill thou shalt have given into my own hand the case which enclosed the\naccursed Camion. Even Lumineuse agrees to this, and I have obtained her\nconsent for you to suffer until that time.\"\n\nAt these words she took the King of the Whiting on her shoulders, and\nthrew him into the reservoir, as well as the sharks, the palace, and\nall its inhabitants. Zirphil found himself alone at the foot of a\ngreat mountain, in a country which was as arid as a desert, without\nbeing able to perceive the vestige of a habitation, or even of the\ngreat reservoir. All had disappeared at the same moment. The Prince\nwas even more distressed than astonished at so extraordinary an event.\nHe was accustomed to wonders--he was only alive to the grief which the\npersecution of the Fairy Marmotte occasioned him. \"I cannot doubt,\"\nsaid he, \"that I have pounded my Princess. Yes, I must have pounded\nher; yet I am none the happier for it. Ah, barbarous Marmotte! And you,\nLumineuse, you leave me without help, after having obeyed you at the\nexpense of all which a heart as sensitive as mine could suffer!\"\n\nHis grief, and the little repose which he had taken since the previous\nnight, threw him into such a state of weakness, that he would have\nsunk altogether if he had not had the courage to wish to live. \"If I\ncould but find something to support me,\" said he; \"but in this horrible\ndesert I shall seek in vain a single fruit which can refresh me.\" He\nhad not pronounced the word when his ring opened, and a little table\ncovered with excellent viands came out of it. It became in a moment\nlarge enough to accommodate the person for whom it was intended. He\nfound on it all that could tempt his eye and his appetite, for the\nrepast was so beautifully arranged, that in fact nothing was wanting,\nand the wine was delicious. He returned thanks to Lumineuse, for who\nelse could have assisted him so opportunely? He ate, drank, and felt\nstrong again.\n\nWhen he had finished, the table lost its form, and re-entered the\nring. As it was late, he did not make much progress in ascending the\nmountain, but stretched himself under a wretched tree, which had hardly\nenough leaves to protect him from the night air. \"Alas!\" said he,\nas he laid himself down, \"such is the nature of man. He forgets the\ngood that is past, and is only sensible of present evil. I would now\nwillingly exchange my table for a couch a little less hard than this.\"\nA moment after he felt that he was in a comfortable bed; but he could\nsee nothing, for it appeared to him that the darkness was redoubled. He\nascertained that this was caused by the ample curtains which surrounded\nhis bed, and protected him from the cold and dew, and having again\nthanked the good and attentive Lumineuse, he dropped off to sleep.\nOn waking at daybreak, he found himself in an angel-bed,[40] of\nyellow taffety and silver, which was placed in the middle of a tent of\nsatin of the same colour, embroidered all over with ciphers in bright\nsilver, which formed the name of Zirphil, and all the ciphers were\nsupported by whales formed of rubies. Everything that could possibly\nbe required was to be found also in this beautiful tent. If the Prince\nhad been in a more tranquil state of mind he would have admired this\nelegant habitation generally; but he only looked at the whales,\ndressed himself, and went out of the tent, which folded itself up, and\nre-entered the ring from which it had issued.\n\nHe began to ascend the mountain, taking no longer any trouble in\nseeking food or lodging, for he was certain to have both as soon as he\nwished for them. His only anxiety was to find Lumineuse; for his ring\nwas mute on that subject, and he found himself in a country so strange\nto him, and so deserted, that he was necessarily compelled to trust to\nchance.\n\nAfter having passed several days in ascending without discovering\nanything, he arrived at the brink of a well which was cut in the rock.\nHe seated himself near it to rest, and began to exclaim, as usual,\n\"Lumineuse, can I not find you, then?\" The last time he pronounced\nthese words, he heard a voice which proceeded from the well say, \"Is it\nZirphil who speaks to me?\" His joy at hearing this voice was increased\nby recognising her to whom it belonged. He rushed to the brink of the\nwell, and said, \"Yes, it is Zirphil. And are you not Citronette?\"\n\"Yes,\" replied Citronette, emerging from the well, and embracing the\nPrince.\n\nIt is impossible to express the pleasure which this sight gave him.\nHe overwhelmed the nymph with questions about herself and about the\nPrincess. At length, after the excitement of their first meeting had\nsubsided, they spoke more rationally together. \"I am about to inform\nyou,\" said she, \"of all that you are ignorant of; for since the time\nyou pounded us, we have enjoyed a happiness which was only alloyed by\nyour absence, and I awaited your arrival here on the part of the Fairy\nLumineuse, to tell you what remains for you to do in order to obtain\npossession of a Princess who loves you as much as you love her. But as\nsome time must elapse before you can arrive at this happiness, I will\nrelate to you the rest of the marvellous history of your amiable bride.\"\n\nZirphil kissed the hand of Citronette a thousand times, and followed her\ninto her grotto, where he thought he should die of mingled pleasure\nand grief when he recognised the spot in which he had for the first\ntime seen his divine Princess. At length, after partaking of a repast\nwhich came out of the ring, he begged the good Citronette to have the\nkindness to resume the narrative of the Princess from where she had\nherself left off in the palace garden.\n\n\"As it is here,\" said Citronette, \"that Lumineuse is to meet you, you\nshall, whilst waiting for her, learn all that you wish to know, for\nit is useless for you to run after her. She confides you to my care,\nand a lover is less impatient when one talks to him about her whom he\nloves. The fairy Marmotte was not ignorant of your marriage; she had\ntransformed our friend into an ivory doll, believing that you would\nbe disgusted at her. Lumineuse conducted this affair herself, knowing\nthat nothing could deprive you of the Princess if you married her,\nor if you destroyed her enchantment by skinning her. You chose the\nformer alternative, and you know what followed. By night she resumed\nher proper form, and lamented at having to pass all her days in your\nroyal mother's pocket, for Marmotte had been permitted by Lumineuse to\ntorment the Princess until you had fulfilled your destiny, which was,\nto skin her; so enraged was she at finding that you had married her,\nand that the King of the Whiting, her nephew, could not become her\nhusband.\n\n\"As the Princess was no longer a whale, there was no fish to skin; but\nMarmotte, fertile in expedients, determined to make you pound her, and\nhad forbidden the Princess to tell you anything about it, under pain\nof your life, promising her afterwards the greatest felicity. 'How\nwill he ever resolve to pound me?' said she when expecting you. 'Ah,\nmy dear Citronette, if it were only my life that Marmotte threatened,\nI would give it cheerfully to shield my husband from the torments they\nprepared for him; but they attack his life--that life which is so dear\nto me. Ah, Marmotte! barbarous Marmotte! Is it possible that you can\ntake pleasure in making me so miserable when I have never given you\nany cause for it?' She knew the period prescribed for your separation\nfrom her, but she dared not tell you of it. The last time that you saw\nher, you know that you found her in tears; you asked her the cause, she\npretended it was on account of your attentions to little Camion, and\naccused you of inconstancy. You appeased her apparent jealousy; and\nthe fatal hour at which Marmotte was to fetch her arrived. You were\ntransported into the palace of the King, your father; the Princess\nand I were changed into crayfish, and placed in a little cane basket,\nwhich the Fairy put under her arm, and ascending a car drawn by two\nadders, we arrived at the palace of the King of the Whiting. This\npalace was that of the royal father of the Princess: the city, changed\ninto a lake, formed the reservoir which we have inhabited, and all the\nmen-fish that you have seen were the wicked subjects of that good King.\n\n\"I must tell you, my Lord,\" said Citronette, interrupting herself,\n\"that that unfortunate Monarch, and the Queen, his wife, being in\ndespair at the moment when the Princess sank to the bottom of the well,\nthe Fairies who had formerly come to their assistance, appeared, to\nconsole them for her loss; but the unhappy pair knowing that it was to\ntheir kingdom that Camion would be exiled, chose to be there rather\nthan at a distance from her, notwithstanding what they had to fear from\nthe cruelty and ferocity of the King of the Whiting, whom his Aunt had\ncaused to be crowned by these men-fish. The Fairies did not conceal\nfrom them the future fate of the Princess; and the King, her father,\nbegged to be the clerk of the kitchen and keeper of the King of the\nWhiting's mortar. The Fairy immediately gave him a tap of her wand,\nand he became the pike-headed man you saw in that situation; and you\nneed no longer be surprised at his having wept bitterly whenever you\nbrought the crayfish to pound, for as he knew that his daughter must\nundergo this torture, he always thought she was amongst the number; and\nthe miserable Monarch had not a moment's rest, because his daughter had\nno means of making herself known to him. The Queen had requested to be\nchanged into a crayfish, in order to be with the Princess, and her wish\nwas also granted.\n\n\"As soon as we arrived at the palace of the King of the Whiting, the\nFairy presented us to him, and ordered him to have crayfish soup made\nfor his dinner every day. We were then thrown into the reservoir. My\nfirst care was to seek the Queen, in order to soothe a little the grief\nof the Princess, but either by the decree of fate or stupidity on my\npart, I found it impossible to discover her. We passed our days in\nthis mournful search, and our pleasantest moments were those in which\nwe recalled the circumstances of our unhappy lives. You arrived at\nlength, and they presented us to you; but the Fairy had forbidden us\nto make ourselves known before you should interrogate us, and we dared\nnot infringe this rule, so continually were we compelled to submit to\nseverities for trifles.\n\n\"The Princess told me she thought she should have died of fright at\nobserving you in conversation with the cruel Marmotte; we saw you\nsearching amongst our companions with a mortal impatience, it being\nobvious that, by the direction you took, you had little chance of\narriving at us.\n\n\"We knew that we must be pounded; but we had also learnt that\nimmediately after we should be restored to our former condition, and\nthat the wicked Marmotte would have no further power over us. On the\neve of the day on which you were to commence the infliction of this\ntorture on us, we were all assembled in a cavity of the reservoir,\nweeping over our destiny, when Lumineuse appeared. 'Do not weep, my\nchildren,' said that admirable fairy; 'I come to inform you that\nyou will escape the punishment they threaten you with, provided you\ngo gaily to the mortar, and do not answer any questions that may be\naddressed to you. I can say no more at present--I am in haste; but do\nas I have told you, and you will not repent it. Let her whose fate\nappears the most cruel not lose hope--she will soon find relief.' We\nall thanked the Fairy, and appeared before you perfectly resolved\nto keep our secret. You spoke to some, who only made vague replies,\nand when you had chosen ten, we returned to the reservoir, where the\nassurance of our speedy deliverance inspired us with a natural gaiety\nwhich assisted the project of our protectress.\n\n\"The last words Lumineuse had spoken gave to the beautiful Camion a\nlightness of heart which rendered her charming in the eyes of her\nmother and me; for the Queen had at length recognised her, and we three\nwere inseparable. At length your choice fell on the Queen and me, and\nwe had not time to say adieu to the Princess. An unknown power acted\non us at the moment, and inspired us with such gaiety that we thought\nwe should die of laughter at the absurd things we said to each other.\nYou carried us to the kitchen, and we had not touched the bottom of\nthe fatal mortar before Lumineuse herself came to our assistance, and\nrestoring me my natural form, transported me to my customary abode. I\nhad the consolation of seeing the Queen and our companions also resume\ntheirs, but I know not what became of them. The Fairy embraced me, and\ntold me to await you, and relate to you everything when you should come\nto seek the Princess.\n\n\"I awaited this moment with impatience, as you will well believe, my\nLord,\" said Citronette to the Prince, who listened most eagerly to\nher; \"and yesterday I seated myself at the mouth of the well, when\nLumineuse appeared. 'Our children are about to be made happy, my\ndear Citronette,' said she to me; 'Zirphil has only to recover the\ntoothpick-case of Marmotte to finish his labours, for at length he has\nskinned the Princess.' 'Ah! great Queen,' cried I, 'are we so happy\nas to be certain of this?' 'Yes,' replied she, 'it is quite true;\nhe thought that he only skinned Marmotte, but it was in reality the\nPrincess. Marmotte was concealed in the handle of the knife he used\nfor that act, and the instant he had finished his task she caused the\nPrincess to vanish, and appeared in her place, for the purpose of again\nintimidating him!\" \"What!\" cried the Prince, \"was it to my charming\nbride that I did that harm? Have I had the barbarity to inflict on her\nsuch a cruel torment! Ah, heavens! she will never pardon me, and I do\nnot deserve she should!\" The unhappy Zirphil spoke so impetuously, and\ndistressed himself so greatly, that poor Citronette was sorry she had\ntold him this news.\n\n\"How,\" said she, at last, seeing that he was quite overcome by his\nreflections, \"how, you did not know it?\" \"No, I did not know that,\"\nsaid he; \"what determined me to take the shell off that unhappy and too\ncharming crayfish was, that I saw Lumineuse in my ring speaking to a\nveiled person who even laughed with her, and who, I flattered myself,\nwas my Princess; and I thought that she had passed through the mortar\nlike the rest. Ah, I shall never forgive myself for this mistake!\"\n\"But, my Lord,\" said Citronette, \"the charm depended on your skinning\nor pounding her, and you had done neither one nor the other; besides,\nthe person to whom Lumineuse spoke was the mother of the Princess; they\nawaited the end of your adventure in order to seize on your bride and\nprotect her for you; it was quite necessary that it should so happen.\"\n\"Nevertheless,\" said the Prince, \"if I had known it, I would rather\nhave pierced my own heart with that horrid knife!\" \"But consider,\"\nsaid Citronette, \"that in piercing your heart you would have left the\nPrincess for ever in the power of your enemy and frightful rival, and\nthat it is far better to have shelled her than to have died and left\nher in misery.\"\n\nApparently this argument, so obviously founded on truth, appeased the\ngrief of the Prince, and he consented to take a little nourishment\nfor his support. They had just finished, when the roof of the saloon\nopened, and Lumineuse appeared, seated upon a carbuncle drawn by a\nhundred butterflies; she descended from it, assisted by the Prince,\nwho bathed the hem of her garment with a torrent of tears. The Fairy\nraised him, and said, \"Prince Zirphil, to-day you are about to reap\nthe fruit of your heroic labours. Console yourself, and enjoy at\nlength your happiness. I have vanquished the fury of Marmotte by my\nprayers, and your courage has disarmed her: come with me to receive\nyour Princess from her hands and mine.\" \"Ah, Madam,\" cried the Prince,\nthrowing himself at her feet, \"am I not dreaming? Is it possible that\nmy happiness is real?\" \"Do not doubt it,\" said the Fairy, \"come to your\nkingdom and console the Queen, your mother, for your absence, and for\nthe death of the King, your father: your subjects wait to crown you.\"\n\nThe Prince in the midst of his joy felt a pang at the tidings of the\ndeath of his father; but the Fairy to divert him from his affliction,\nmade him place himself by her side, permitted Citronette to seat\nherself at their feet, and then the butterflies spread their brilliant\nwings, and set out for the empire of King Zirphil.\n\nOn the road, the Fairy told him to open his ring, and he there found\nthe toothpick-case which he had to return to Marmotte. The King\nthanked the generous Fairy a thousand times over, and they arrived\nat the capital of his dominions, where they were expected with the\nutmost impatience. Zirphil's mother advanced to receive the Fairy as\nshe descended from her car, and all the people becoming aware of the\nreturn of Zirphil, uttered acclamations which diverted him a little\nfrom his grief; he tenderly embraced his mother, and all ascended to a\nmagnificent apartment which the Queen had prepared for the Fairy.\n\nThey had hardly entered, when Marmotte arrived in a car lined with\nSpanish leather, and drawn by eight winged rats. She brought with\nher the beautiful Camion, with the King and Queen, her father and\nmother. Lumineuse and the Queen hastened to embrace Marmotte, Zirphil\nrespectfully kissed her paw, which she extended to him, laughing; and\nhe returned her the toothpick case. She then permitted him to claim his\nbride, and presented her to the Queen, who embraced her with a thousand\nexpressions of joy.\n\nThis numerous and illustrious assemblage began speaking all together.\nJoy reigned supreme amongst them. Camion and her charming husband\nwere the only persons who could not speak a word. They had so much to\nsay. There was an eloquence in their silence which affected every one\npresent; the good Citronette wept with joy whilst kissing the hands of\nthe divine Princess.\n\nAt length, Lumineuse took them both by the hand, and advancing with\nthem towards the Queen, mother of Zirphil: \"Behold, Madam,\" said she,\n\"two young lovers who only wait your consent to be happy: complete\ntheir felicity; my sister Marmotte, the King and Queen, here present,\nand I myself, all request you to do so.\"\n\nThe Queen replied as she ought to this courteous speech, and\ntenderly embracing the happy pair, said, \"Yes, my children, live\nhappily together, and permit me, in relinquishing my crown to you,\nto participate in that happiness.\" Zirphil and the Princess threw\nthemselves at her feet, from whence she raised them, and again\nembracing them, they conjured her not to abandon them, but to aid them\nby her counsels.\n\nMarmotte then touched the beautiful Camion with her wand, and her\nclothes, which were already sufficiently magnificent, became silver\nbrocade embroidered with carat diamonds, and her beautiful locks fell\ndown and rearranged themselves so exquisitely that the Kings and Queens\ndeclared her appearance was perfectly dazzling: the toothpick-case\nwhich the Fairy held was changed into a crown formed entirely of\nbrilliants, so beautiful and so well set that the room and the whole\npalace became illuminated by it. Marmotte placed it on the head of the\nPrincess. Zirphil, in his turn, appeared in a suit similar to that of\nCamion; and from the ring which she had given him came forth a crown\nexactly like hers.\n\nThey were married on the spot, and proclaimed King and Queen of that\nfine country. The Fairies gave the royal wedding-breakfast, at which\nnothing was wanting. After having spent a week with them, and having\noverwhelmed them with good things, they departed, and reconducted the\nKing and Queen, father and mother of Camion, into their kingdom, the\nold inhabitants of which they had punished, and repeopled it by a new\nrace faithful to their master. As for Citronette, the Fairies permitted\nher to come and pass some time with her beautiful Queen, and consented\nto allow Camion, by only wishing for her, to see her whenever she\npleased.\n\nThe Fairies at length departed, and never were people so happy as King\nZirphil and Queen Camion. They found their greatest felicity in each\nother: and days seemed to them like moments. They had children who\ncompleted their happiness. They lived to an extreme old age; loving\nwith the same intensity, and striving which should most please the\nother. On their decease their kingdom was divided, and after various\nchanges it has become, under the dominion of one of their descendants,\nthe flourishing empire of the Great Mogul.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[34] _Dauphin_ in the original.\n\n[35] In the _Lady's Dictionary_, 1694, we find a palatine \"is\nthat which used to be called a sable tippet; but that name is changed\nto one that is supposed to be finer, because newer, and _\u00e0 la mode de\nFrance_.\"\n\n[36] The Marmot of the Alps (_Aretomys_--literally\n\"Bear-rat\"), a large mountain-rat, more than a foot long, with a body\nshaped something like a bear.\n\n[37] See Appendix.\n\n[38] _Camion_ signifies in French what we call a minikin-pin.\n\n[39] Melusine is the heroine of a story as old as the\nfourteenth century, and on which some portion of \"La Princesse Camion\"\nappears to have been founded (_Vide_ Appendix). Brant\u00f4me says she\nhaunts the castle of Lusignan, where she announces by _loud shrieks_\nany disaster that is to befal the French monarchy. This legend gave\nrise to the expression of \"Cris de Melusine.\"\n\n[40] _Lit d'ange_--a bed with curtains suspended over it by a\nring or pole.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCESS LIONETTE AND PRINCE COQUERICO.\n\n\nIn the Circassian mountains lived an old man and his wife who had\nretired from the world, weary of the caprices of fortune. They had\nfound for themselves a convenient retreat in a cavern, which extended\nfar beneath one of the mountains, and the dread of seeing each other\nexpire was the only anxiety that troubled them in their solitude.\nThey had lived at Courts, and knew all the insincerity that prevailed\nin them; and far from regretting the brilliant positions they had\noccupied, they pitied those who, from ambition or want of experience,\nwere desirous of them. They lived a happy and quiet life. Their food\nconsisted of fruit and fish, the latter abounding in a large pond,\nwherein the old man amused himself by taking them; while a flock of\nsheep which the old woman had the care of, produced the finest wool\nin the world to make their clothes with. The old man called himself\nMulidor, and his wife was named Phila. They incessantly implored the\ngods to send somebody to console whichever might be left the last upon\nearth, or to close their eyes, but their prayers had not yet been\ngranted. It must not, however, be supposed that the gods rejected such\npure and reasonable desires, but they wished to prove the constancy of\nthese good people, to recompense them afterwards with interest.\n\n  [Illustration: Princess Lionette and Prince Coquerico.--P. 416.]\n\nThe old man had just caught some fish, and after fastening his boat to\nthe bank, he spread his net upon a rock to dry it in the sun, when a\nlion rushed out from one of the cavities of the rock, and went to drink\nin the pond. Mulidor was afraid at first, but afterwards finding that\nthe proud beast was roaring because he could not reach the water, which\nwas too far off from the edge at this spot, he re-entered his boat, and\nfilling a bowl offered it to the lion, who came and emptied it several\ntimes. After he had quenched his thirst, he raised his head and looked\nat his benefactor so mildly, that the good man ventured to caress him.\nThe lion appeared pleased at his doing so, and ate some bread and\ncheese which the old man took from a basket he had slung on his arm.\nAs, however, this was not a very safe companion, Mulidor thought he\nhad better return to his cavern, fearing that his wife, uneasy at his\nabsence, might come in search of him, and that the lion, having less\nrespect for her than for him, would devour her.\n\nThis idea was beginning to agitate him, when the lion, after licking\nhis hand, returned to his own home, leaving the old man at liberty\nto do so likewise. Upon reaching the cavern he found his wife, as he\nexpected, alarmed at his delay; he related his adventure to her, which\nmade her shudder. They continued to talk upon the subject, and drew\nthis inference, that men might learn lessons of kindness and gratitude\nfrom animals. \"Do not, however, place yourself again at the mercy of\nthis fierce beast,\" said she, affectionately, \"or let me go with you,\nfor I could not live under the fear I shall henceforth be in concerning\nyou. You have been restored to me this time, but can I flatter myself\nthat the Gods will be always equally gracious to me.\" The old man,\ntouched by her affection, promised to avoid the lion in future. This\nconversation kept them up late, and consequently they did not awake\ntill the golden rays of morning shone full upon them. On opening the\ndoor to go out and feed her sheep, Phila was greatly surprised to find\nat it a lion of prodigious size and strength, and a lioness of equal\npower and beauty, the latter carrying on her back a little girl of five\nor six years old, who, as soon as she saw the old woman, alighted, ran\nto her, and embraced her.\n\nThe good woman stood motionless with fear and wonder, and the lions,\nafter kissing the little girl, who returned their caresses, ran off,\nand disappeared in an instant, leaving her in the good wife's hands.\nRecovering from her fright she looked at the child, who never ceased\nkissing her, took her in her arms, and went into the cavern to show her\nto her husband. They both of them admired her beauty and gentleness;\nshe was quite naked, her fair hair only falling over her shoulders, and\nupon her right breast she had a singular mark in the shape of a crown.\n\nThe good people thanked the Gods for this gift; they dressed the\nbeautiful little child in a light snow-white robe, with a rose-coloured\ngirdle, and tied up her hair with ribbon of the same colour. She\nallowed them to do so quietly, and without saying a word. They fondled\nher, and gave her some ewe's milk quite fresh. She smiled at the sight\nof it, and looking at them, uttered a little cry resembling the roar\nof a lion. She soon became accustomed to them, however; she had no\nresemblance to a lion but in her voice, and from that circumstance\nthey called her Lionette. She answered to this name, and her natural\nintelligence soon enabled her to understand what they said to her,\nand at length to speak and explain herself. She had been a year with\nthese good people, who loved her dearly, and were equally loved by her,\nwhen Mulidor, to make her familiar with their way of life, in case she\nshould lose them, took her out to fish with him. He had been there\nseveral times alone without meeting the lions, but little Lionette was\nno sooner at the foot of the rock where the good man dried his fish\nthan she uttered a little roar, which awoke the lion and lioness, who\nran out to her immediately, each vying with the other in fondling and\ncaressing her. She embraced the lioness affectionately, who allowed her\nfreely to do so; at length she jumped upon her back, and the lions ran\noff with her in a moment. The poor old man was in consternation; he\nthrew himself upon the ground and prayed to die, now that he had lost\nLionette. After lying there a long time, finding his despair could be\nof no avail, he dragged himself to his cavern, and created fresh misery\nthere in relating to Phila the accident that had happened to Lionette.\n\n\"Lionette! my dear Lionette!\" cried the good woman, \"is it possible we\ncan have lost you? Alas! why did the Gods present you to us, so cruelly\nto take you from us? Of all the goods we have lost we but regret you!\"\nTheir affliction was inconsolable, and poor Mulidor had scarcely\nspirit enough to bear up against this misfortune. The night was passed\nin lamentations and tears. At break of day they went in search of\nher, fearing neither the lions nor their fury; their great love for\nLionette made them wish to be devoured also, if she had undergone that\nfrightful fate. They ran to the rock where the lions had chosen to\nestablish themselves, when suddenly they saw little Lionette riding\non the lioness towards them. As soon as the lovely child saw them she\njumped down, and ran and threw her arms round their necks; then taking\nfrom the back of the lioness a kid that she had killed in the chase,\n\"There,\" said she, \"see what mother lioness gives you; she took me\nhunting to get game for you.\" These good people were half crazy with\ndelight at seeing her again; they could not help crying, and bathing\nher pretty face with their tears. \"My dear daughter! my dear child!\"\nthey exclaimed, \"you are restored to us again.\" Lionette was affected\nat this sight. \"Do you then,\" said she, \"forbid me from seeing the\nlioness, that you can say nothing to her, and that you shed tears in\nembracing me?\" \"No, no, my dear child,\" they both cried at once, \"but\nwe feared that you had abandoned us.\" \"Mother lioness does not wish\nit,\" said the child, \"she wishes me to be your daughter.\" She turned\nround for her to agree to what she said, but she was no longer there,\nand Lionette returned cheerfully with them to the cavern.\n\nMulidor and Phila thought this was a very wonderful adventure; they\nhad many private conversations about it, and determined they would\nnot refuse the child to the Lioness, when she chose to come for her;\nat the same time, Mulidor obtained his wife's consent to consult\nTigreline upon Lionette's destiny. She was a very learned Fairy. \"I\nhad already thought of doing so,\" replied Phila, \"and it had better be\ndone directly.\" It was settled he should start the first thing in the\nmorning.\n\nThe good woman prepared a present for the Fairy, to induce her to be\nmore gracious--nothing very precious, the Fairies do not desire it--it\nwas a piece of sky-blue ribbon, and a little basket of nuts, which\nTigreline was passionately fond of. Mulidor set out on his journey to\nher dwelling; she had fixed her habitation in the heart of an immense\nforest which was filled with tigers--it was from that circumstance she\ntook her name. When any one sought her for a good object, the tigers\ndid them no harm, but if they went thither with any evil design,\nthey tore them to pieces, and none such were ever known to reach the\nFairy's castle. The old man having nothing to fear upon that subject,\ndid not arm himself with any weapon of defence, and arrived without\ndifficulty at the castle at the moment the Fairy was getting up. He\nfound her occupied in stringing large pearls on a golden thread. She\nreceived him very graciously, and taking her spectacles from off her\nnose, \"Approach, wise old man,\" said she. \"I know what has brought\nyou here, and I am very glad to see you.\" Mulidor bowed profoundly,\nand kissed Tigreline's robe. He offered his little present, which she\nreceived very kindly, then making him sit down, she told him she would\nconsult Destiny in her large book, that she might answer correctly the\nquestions he came to ask her. After reading for some time, she raised\nher eyes to Heaven, then fixing them upon Mulidor, \"Listen,\" said she,\n\"to what I think of Lionette. She must be warned from loving one who\nis her direct opposite, otherwise great misfortune may happen to her,\neven to the loss of life. Should she arrive at twenty without this\nfate befalling her, I answer for her happiness.\" She then informed the\nold man that Lionette was a great Princess, exposed to be eaten by\nlions almost immediately after she was born, through the wickedness\nof a certain Queen; but she would not tell him anything more, and\nexhorted the old man to continue to cultivate in the child all those\ngood feelings which he himself possessed, and left it to him to decide\non telling her who she was, trusting to his prudence for securing her\nhappiness.\n\nShe then gave him for Lionette the string of pearls she had just\nfinished. \"If she do not lose it, or give it away,\" said the Fairy,\n\"it will preserve her from many dangers. It may, indeed, insure her\nhappiness if she take special care of it.\" The old man thanked the\nFairy and returned home, where he arrived before nightfall.\n\nHe found his wife and Lionette; the latter embraced him a thousand\ntimes, and he tied the Fairy's pearls round her neck, earnestly\nentreating her to take great care of them. She was enchanted with this\nnew ornament, and the old man related to Phila, as soon as they were\nalone, all that the Fairy had told him. They consulted together upon\nthe course they should take, and resolved they would say nothing to\nLionette of her birth, to prevent her feeling useless regrets. \"We\ncan tell her at any time, should it be necessary to do so,\" added the\nprudent wife; \"and we should be sorry for it (not having it in our\npower to give her more than the education of a simple shepherdess) if\nher disposition, sweet as it is now, should be changed by the knowledge\nof her rank. Let us attend to her heart and mind: princesses have not\nthe time to do so. She will learn from her own experience that they are\nas subject as other mortals are to the caprices of Fortune, and perhaps\nshe may be the happier for it.\"\n\nMulidor quite agreed with the truth of this, and they applied\nthemselves more than ever to the education of this amiable child, whose\nnatural excellence left them nothing to wish for. She was twelve years\nold, and continued to go hunting with the Lioness, very often carrying\non her shoulder a little quiver, and skilfully shooting the wild\nbeasts. One night, returning later than usual, the cavern resounded\nwith the roars of the Lioness. Mulidor and Phila both went out, and\nfound the Lioness at the door, having brought Lionette with her, who\nwas seated on the ground, endeavouring to console the poor animal,\nthat appeared in deep despair. \"The Lion is dead,\" cried the young\nchild, \"and my mother cannot be comforted--a hunter has killed him.\"\nThe Lioness rolled upon the ground, and shed torrents of tears. The old\nman, his wife, and Lionette did their best to soothe her grief; but\nafter passing the whole night in the vain attempt, the Lioness expired\nherself in the morning. The sobs and grief of Lionette were excessive,\nshe could not leave the body of the poor beast, she embraced it, and\nshed tears over it. At length they dragged her from this sad scene,\nand while the old man buried the Lioness, the kind Phila attended to\nLionette, who was in the deepest affliction. When Mulidor came in, he\nwas much moved by the child's grief, and was anxious to comfort her,\nbut finding he only increased her sorrow, he said, \"What would you have\ndone, then, my child, if this accident had happened to either of us? It\nis not possible you could have felt it more keenly.\" \"Ah! my father,\"\ncried she, holding her arms out to embrace him, fearing that he was\noffended at the little attention she paid to his consolations, \"if the\nGods have reserved so much misfortune for me, I implore them to let me\ndie instantly, for I shall not be able to support it.\" \"The Gods, my\nchild,\" replied the old man, \"do not always grant such rash petitions.\nIt is offending Providence not to submit humbly to its decrees. Do you\nsuppose you are the only one who suffers from affliction in this life?\nIs this the courage I thought you capable of?\"\n\nLionette cast down her eyes: the severity of this remonstrance had\nbrought a slight colour into her cheeks, which made her more lovely.\nMulidor felt he had said enough; he went out and left his wife to\nsoften anything he might have said too harshly; and Phila, embracing\nLionette, said, \"Really, my child, you would make us believe you could\nhave no greater grief. No doubt the friendship you show for these poor\nanimals is highly laudable, but you must take comfort, and thank the\nGods that they have not inflicted on you greater misfortunes.\" \"Ah!\nmy mother,\" cried Lionette, embracing her, \"how much obliged I am to\nyou for speaking to me thus; do not let my father be angry with me any\nmore--I feel I could not bear it.\" Mulidor re-entered; Lionette ran to\nembrace him; he returned her caresses with a fondness that consoled the\ncharming child. They could not sufficiently admire the goodness of her\nheart, her sensibility, her gentleness, and frankness; and she also\nloved them dearly.\n\nLionette, however, continued to deplore the loss of the Lions: a deep\nmelancholy appeared to have taken possession of her; she dared not give\nway to it before Mulidor, but she felt less restraint with Phila. The\nworthy couple often conversed together upon this subject; they became\nalarmed at Lionette's condition; they tried to amuse her; they went out\nmore frequently, took walks with her, allowed her to go hunting and\nfishing, gave her birds, flowers, shells; but she preferred hunting to\nall other amusements. The part of the country in which they lived was\nso wild a desert that persons must either have come there on purpose,\nor have lost their way, to be seen in it, so there was little danger of\nLionette meeting with anybody. Still, the fact of the Lion having been\nkilled by a hunter was remembered by Mulidor. He never could understand\nhow a man could get so far without having found out their retreat, or\nbeing more astonished at seeing a young girl mounted on a Lioness, and\nhunting in company with a Lion. They did not dare ask Lionette any\nquestions about it, fearing they should renew her grief; and yet they\nfeared to prohibit her from hunting, feeling, good souls, how cruel it\nwould be to deprive her of her favourite amusement. They only entreated\nher, therefore, to take care she did not lose herself.\n\nAt the end of some months, Lionette regained her spirits a little.\nThe old man and his wife were enchanted at this happy change. They\ncongratulated themselves upon having promoted it by their indulgence,\nand trusted that she would in time forget the Lions. She grew fast, and\nbegan to evince character; she was wonderfully beautiful, even in the\nmost simple of her dresses. Phila had made her garment of the finest\ntigers' skins, and a little cap of the same material; and thus attired,\none might have taken her for Diana herself, she was so graceful and\nmajestic. Her beautiful black eyes heightened the brilliancy and\nvivacity of her complexion, which neither the hottest sun nor the\nmost scorching wind had any effect upon, nor could they injure the\nwhiteness of her arms or neck. She was not at all aware of her beauty;\nher strength of mind and her education made her above priding herself\non her personal advantages. She spoke well, and her ideas were even\nsuperior to her language. The good people were astonished to see her at\nso early an age evincing so much talent and judgment. She was then just\napproaching her fifteenth birthday.\n\nFor some days past, Phila perceived that she had taken the trouble\nto put her hair in curls on going to bed, and that on going out she\nglanced at herself with a kind of satisfaction in a fountain adjoining\nthe cavern. She mentioned this to Mulidor, who was as much surprised\nat it as herself; they, however, did not choose to speak to her about\nit, but determined to watch her closely, that they might discover\nthe motive of this unusual attention to her personal appearance, and\nthey recollected that for some time past she had appeared thoughtful,\nuneasy, and indifferent to matters which had previously amused her.\n\nLionette returned to the cavern rather earlier on that day; she brought\nwith her a brace of partridges that she had killed. The good woman\nasked her if she felt too tired to help her with some spinning she\nwished to finish. \"If you could dispense with my assistance,\" said\nLionette, \"I should be very much obliged to you; I feel so inclined to\nsleep.\"\n\nPhila consented, and let her go into a little nook of the cavern which\nmade a kind of room for her. She had decorated it with all the rarest\nthings that she had found. The hangings were composed of the feathers\nof singular birds, and an abundance of flowers in shells, which she\nkept filled with fresh water, ornamented this pretty chamber. Mulidor\nhad taught her to paint; she had finished some charming pictures,\nand with the wool she had found in the cavern she had embroidered\nsome cushions, which she had arranged as a couch. Upon this she threw\nherself, looking more like a goddess than a mortal.\n\nThe good woman becoming uneasy at the length of time she slept, went\nto seek her; she found her, as I have just described, reclining on the\ncushions; her eyes were shut, but a few tears that were struggling\nto escape through their long lashes, convinced her that the lovely\nLionette was in some distress. She stood looking at her for some time,\nshe had never seen her look so beautiful; but at length, alarmed at\nher condition, she drew nearer, and taking her hands, pressed them\naffectionately between her own.\n\nThis action aroused Lionette, and turning her eyes towards Phila, \"Ah,\nmother!\" said she, throwing herself upon her neck, \"how ashamed I am to\nappear thus before you.\" \"Why, my dear girl,\" said Phila, \"why do you\nconceal your troubles from me? Do you not know how interested we both\nfeel for you? What is the matter with you, my child? Do not hide your\ndistress from me; perhaps I could assuage it.\"\n\nLionette was some time before she ventured to answer. She kept her\nhead bent down in the old woman's hands; she kissed them passionately.\nAt length she regained her courage, and raising herself, her cheeks\nsuffused with blushes, \"I am about to tell you something,\" said she,\n\"which has tormented me for some time past. Let me hope this avowal at\nleast will serve to obtain your forgiveness.\" \"Speak, my dear girl,\"\nsaid Phila, \"and fear nothing. I am more uneasy at your grief than\nangry at your having concealed it from me.\"\n\nLionette encouraged by this, told her that, on her way to the forest,\nabout three months ago, she had seen a young shepherd fast asleep, and\nthat an arrow which she had shot at a bird having missed it, fell and\npierced the young man's hand; that attracted by the cry he uttered,\nshe approached him, and assisted in stanching the blood. \"This wound,\"\nshe added, \"awoke in my heart a strange emotion. I trembled in applying\nto it the herbs I had gathered, the properties of which you had taught\nme. He, far from being angry with me, told me he should never complain\nof that wound, but eternally of the one my eyes had inflicted on him.\n\n\"This language, quite new to me, was so fascinating that I wished never\nto quit him. He wept as he gazed on me; he kissed my hands to detain\nme. I proposed that he should follow me, that my father might assist in\ncuring him. 'I cannot do so, beautiful Lionette,' said he (I had told\nhim my name), 'a most cruel fate has forced me to fly from the world;\nbut promise me to come sometimes and cheer my solitude, and I shall ask\nnothing more from the Gods. I shall believe their anger is appeased.'\nI did promise him--he asked me too tenderly to be refused. At length I\nfelt you would be uneasy at my stay, and I left him with so much regret\nthat I burst into tears, and hurried away that he might not perceive\nit, for I was ashamed, I think, of my compassion for him.\n\n\"I returned, restless and miserable. Next morning I went in search of\nhim. I cannot tell what prevented me from making you acquainted with\nit, but I was on the point of telling you a hundred times, and as often\nI felt it would be impossible to do so--perhaps it was because he\nhad begged me to keep it a secret. I ran to look for him, to ask his\npermission to tell you. Approaching the spot where we had seen each\nother the evening before, I stopped suddenly. A feeling of reproach\ncame over me for having hidden this proceeding from you; and besides, I\nwas so agitated, I feared I should be ill. 'What shall I do by myself\nhere?' thought I; 'I am without help, and that which I might find is\nperhaps dangerous to wait for. Unfortunate Lionette, what hast thou\npromised to do? Fly, return to thy duty, for it is clear that thou\nhast wandered from it, since thou art so much disturbed at taking this\nsecret step. The Gods warn thee. This state of mind is not natural.'\nI had sat down to reflect. I got up. I retraced my steps, when a\ngrievous thought arrested me. 'Alas!' said I, 'perhaps he is unable to\ncome to meet me, from the wound I inflicted on him; and if so, what\nwill be his despair at not seeing me? There is no one to help him in\nthis desolate place but myself. To refuse him my assistance would be\ninhuman. Let me find out whether he wants me, and see him but for that.'\n\n\"I proceeded, therefore, to the fatal place where I had wounded him the\nevening before. He was not there. I became alarmed; my limbs failed\nme; I fell upon the moss which covered the ground. I saw some traces\nof his blood still remaining on it. I was nearly suffocated by my\ngrief. Happily my tears flowed, and that relieved me; but I felt the\nkeenest affliction when I thought that perhaps I had been the cause\nof his death. I drew out my arrows, and broke them deliberately as a\npunishment for my cruelty. I caught sight by chance of the one with\nwhich I had wounded him. It was still upon the ground, and stained\nwith his blood. My tears flowed faster at this frightful sight. I gave\nutterance to my agony in piercing shrieks. They were interrupted by\nthe sight of the young shepherd himself, running quickly towards me.\nI could not rise. He threw himself on his knees near me, in so much\nterror that I was alarmed myself at his excessive paleness. He asked\nme what had happened. At the same time I put the same question to him.\nWe re-assured each other. I told him the reason of my tears. Never was\nany one thanked so tenderly. His words had a charm in them that went to\nmy heart. I listened with a pleasure I had never felt before; I nearly\nforgot his wound, so much I feared to interrupt him. I was astonished,\nhowever, to hear him say how much he loved me--he, whom I had scarcely\never seen; and I was still more surprised to find how dear he had\nbecome to me, for he told me more than I could dare tell him; and I\nbelieve he could read my heart, for I thought exactly as he did, only\nit appeared to me I could not so well have expressed myself.\n\n\"At last he told me that he wished to be mine. 'And are you not so\nalready?' said I. 'Can you be more so than you are? That would enchant\nme.' He smiled at my words. I thought I had said something wrong, and\nI blushed at my awkward manner of expressing myself. I know not what\nhe thought, but he said a thousand more affectionate things to me. He\ninformed me he was the son of a great king, and would be my husband.\n'I cannot be your wife,' said I: 'they will not let me.' 'Ah! who will\noppose it,' exclaimed he, 'if you consent?' I then told him that my\nfather and mother had always said a crown would be an obstacle to the\nhappiness of my life, and that they certainly would never consent to\nsuch a union. 'Wait for a few days,' said he, 'and I will tell you\nhow to soften their severity. If you love me you will assist me in\nconquering it; but never refrain from coming to this place. My life\ndepends upon your acquiescence. Fear nothing from me, lovely Lionette;\nnothing can be purer than my affection, and I call all the divinities\nof the forest to witness that I shall ever respect as much as I love\nyou.' He gave me his hand; I gave him mine, and I vowed, as he had\ndone, to love for ever, if you consented to it.\n\n\"I examined his hand, and found the wound had healed; I was delighted\nat this, and left him, promising to return, and not to say anything to\nyou until he desired me. I returned so absorbed by his image that I\nfelt as though I only lived when he was present. I had no pleasure in\nanything but him: the more I saw him the more I wished to see him. It\nwas the same with him. He is charming, mother! and were you to see him\nyou could not do otherwise than love him.\n\n\"Three months have passed in this sweet union, and now comes my misery.\nThis morning he told me that it was necessary that he should be\nabsent for some days upon important business which tended much to our\nhappiness. I had never known what it was to lose sight of him for more\nthan a few hours. I was as wretched as he was. He told me, however,\nthat he should soon return, and that he was even more anxious than\nmyself to complete our happiness. I wept bitterly. At length the hour\narrived for us to part, I unfastened my necklace, and tied it round his\narm----\"\n\n\"Oh, heavens! what have you done, my child?\" exclaimed Phila. \"We are\nlost beyond help.\"\n\nShe threw herself upon the ground, and filled the cavern with her\ncries, Lionette, alarmed at this sight, arose to assist the good woman.\n\"What is the matter, then, mother?\" she cried. \"Why should a necklace\nof such trifling consequence rouse you to so much grief?\" \"It is for\nyou I weep, my daughter,\" said Phila. \"Your happiness was linked with\nthe preservation of that unfortunate necklace.\"\n\nShe then repeated what the Fairy Tigreline had said to Mulidor, and did\nnot conceal from her that she was a princess, but that she knew nothing\nmore. Lionette, who possessed naturally an elevated mind, was not\nastonished at this news. \"Very well, mother,\" said she; \"the more you\nconvince me of the probability of my high birth, the more courageously\nI ought to bear up against the sad events which are predicted of me,\nthough, to speak the truth, I do not believe in them; and I see nothing\nunfortunate here but the absence of the shepherd whom I love, and his\nunhappy name, which made me fly from him without being able to control\nmyself. These are the only misfortunes I know of.\" \"What say you, my\ndaughter?\" exclaimed the old woman; \"his name caused you to fly from\nhim? Explain this riddle--I do not understand it.\" \"Alas! this is\nthe cause of my despair,\" replied Lionette. \"I had scarcely tied the\nnecklace round his arm, when he kissed my hand with such transport that\nI forgot my grief for the moment. 'Yes, beautiful Lionette,' he said,\n'it is for life that you have enchained the happy Prince Coquerico.'\n\n\"Hardly had he pronounced his name, which he had never told me (he\npreferred that I should always call him my shepherd), than I felt\nso horrified, without knowing wherefore, that I fled as swiftly as\npossible. He followed me; he called me. I had not the power to return.\nAn invisible hand seemed to impel me forward. 'My dear Lionette,' he\ncried, 'where are you going? It is your shepherd--it is Coquerico\nwho calls you.' I ran still faster. At last I lost sight of him,\neither that I had taken paths he knew not of, or that he was afraid\nof displeasing me by following me any longer. I arrived here in such\nconfusion I had some trouble in hiding it from you. You know the rest,\nmy mother--all that has happened to me, and I beg you a thousand\npardons for profiting so little from your good lessons; and although I\nowe my birth to apparently powerful princes, I shall always submit to\nyour authority.\"\n\nMulidor came in as Lionette finished speaking; they made him acquainted\nwith this adventure; he was in great alarm at what might happen from\nthe loss of the necklace, and did not dare go and consult Tigreline,\nwhom they had so decidedly disobeyed. There was nothing to be done\nbut to wait and see what would befal the Princess. They entreated her\nto forget this young man; they succeeded by degrees in consoling her\nfor his absence, and notwithstanding her melancholy, she took part\noccasionally in their cheerful conversation.\n\nTwo months passed in this manner. One night they were suddenly awakened\nout of a deep sleep by a clap of thunder which made them think the\ncavern was crumbling to pieces. They started to their feet, and had not\ntime to recover themselves before a hideous and very richly dressed\nFairy touched them with her wand, and they were transformed into two\nLionesses and a Lion, she then transported them in an instant to the\nForest of Tigers, where she vanished and left them.\n\nWho could express the consternation of the wise old man, or his wife's\ndistress? That of the Princess was still greater, she reproached\nherself as being the cause of these good peoples' misfortune; and what\ndistressed her still more was, not being able to speak, she had not\nthe power of comforting them. This calamity for the moment made her\nforget Prince Coquerico; but when she thought she should never see him\nmore, or that if she did, he would fly in terror from her, or at least\nnot recognise her, she uttered such frightful roars that the forest\nresounded with them, and her poor companions came near her to try to\nconsole her. Their grief was redoubled to find they could neither\nunderstand nor speak to her. They groaned despairingly. At length it\noccurred to all three of them to go to the Fairy, but they had no power\nof communicating the idea to each other. The Lion was the first to\nstart, the two Lionesses followed him, but the Tigers stopped the way,\nwithout, however, doing them any harm. Finding their intentions were\nfrustrated, they concluded it was by the Fairy's orders. They buried\nthemselves in the thickest part of the forest, and laid down very\nsorrowfully upon some beautiful green grass, which served as a bed for\nthem. They passed some considerable time in this place without seeing\nthe Fairy, she took care, however, to send them food by one of the\nTigers regularly every day.\n\nIt is now time to acquaint the reader who Prince Coquerico was:--That\nyoung Prince was the son of a King who had been very powerful, and who\nhad reigned in the Fortunate Islands. This King was dead, and having\nleft his son at a tender age, the Queen became regent. The ambition of\nreigning, the pride of being Sovereign Mistress, had closed her heart\nagainst the feelings of nature. She had her son brought up in a castle\nupon the edge of the sea, in luxury and idleness unequalled; and her\nexcuse for this sort of education was a prediction of the Fairies at\nhis birth, to the effect that his life would be endangered if he took\nup arms before he was twenty years old.\n\nEverything was interdicted that could give him any desire for military\nexercises, and the art of war was depicted in such frightful colours\nthat, however valiant the Prince might have been born, he shuddered\nat even the picture of a sword. The King, his father, who had died in\nbattle, was represented to him as so sanguinary a sovereign that he\nvowed he would never imitate him.\n\nThey had named this prince, Coquerico, in derision from his having\namused himself one day--contrary to the desire of his tutors--with\nlooking at a fight between two game cocks. He spent his life in\nwalking; in hearing sentimental romances read to him, the heroes of\nwhich they represented in such a manner that he might not have a desire\nto become like them; he learned to play upon several instruments, to\npaint, and to work at tapestry. The Queen went to see him very often,\nand pictured to him the fate of kings in such distressing colours, that\nhe dreaded the moment when he should ascend the throne.\n\nHe was just ten years old, the time appointed for the Queen to\nresign the throne to him, when, walking on the coast, apart from his\nfollowers, he was caught up by a whirlwind, and disappeared in an\ninstant. His tutors, surprised that he was so long a time in returning,\nwent to seek him, but could find him nowhere. The most diligent search\nproved in vain, and they were compelled to apprise the Queen of this\nmysterious circumstance. She would easily have been consoled for this\naccident if the people of the Island, tired of her government, and\nindignant at the education that had been given to their King, had not\nrisen in rebellion. After having torn her ministers in pieces, they\ncompelled her to fly to a neighbouring Monarch, who granted her an\nasylum. This King had been a widower for two years, having but one\ndaughter, in giving birth to whom the Queen died.\n\nHe married the fugitive Queen; and the people of the Fortunate Islands\nelected a council to rule the kingdom until they could obtain news of\ntheir Prince Coquerico, whom they did not believe to be dead. They were\nright, the whirlwind had been caused by a Fairy, who, delighted at the\nsight of so beautiful a Prince, and angry to find him brought up so\nbadly, had resolved to purloin him from a mother who had proved herself\nunworthy of being blessed with such a son.\n\nTo cultivate a fine disposition spoiled by so wicked an education, the\nFairy was impelled by another feeling less generous and more natural.\nThe beauty of this Prince had touched her heart, she imagined that\ngratitude would make some impression upon that of the young Coquerico.\nThe few charms she possessed, however, were not likely to do so. She\nwas old, and had a horn in the middle of her forehead; but she was very\nsusceptible, and was always complaining that she had met with none\nbut ungrateful beings. \"By bringing up this young man,\" she thought,\n\"he will become accustomed to my appearance, and perhaps my care and\naffection for him will inspire him with sentiments that may lead in\ntime to that happy union of souls, that perfect mutual love, which I\nhave heard so much of and never experienced.\"\n\nCornue (that was her name) reasoned thus in transporting the handsome\nPrince to her dwelling, which was in the Desert where the old man and\nhis wife had brought up the young Lionette for the last four years.\nCornue had built herself a charming palace upon the summit of one\nof the mountains, but it was inaccessible to all human beings, in\nconsequence of the clouds with which it was continually surrounded. The\ncharms of life, its amusements, both rational and frivolous, were all\nunited there. This palace was of immense extent, although formed of one\nsingle opal, so transparent and so beautiful that through the walls one\nmight see a grain of millet at the end of the garden, which was worthy\nof so magnificent a palace, from its groves, terraces, parterres, and\nfountains.\n\nThe tasteful Cornue had not spared anything, even in her dress, for\nwhen, placing the Prince in the vestibule of her palace, she made\nherself visible to him, she had enveloped her horn in a green velvet\ncase, covered with diamonds; her hair, which was rather grey, was\npowdered white,[41] and tied with green _moulinet_ bows, in the\ncentre of each of which sparkled a large diamond; and her dress, of\nflesh-colour and silver, showed her form so truly, that one could\nperceive the Graces had striven among themselves which should give the\nfinishing touch to it.\n\nThe Prince was surprised at this apparition. She kissed his hand, and\nasked his forgiveness for taking him away from his retirement without\nhis permission. \"If I can avoid being your king,\" said he, with an air\nwhich showed that he was not alarmed at the manner in which he had been\nconducted thither, \"I should be very well contented, for the fear of\nascending the throne made me desirous of leaving my kingdom, and you\nhave done me a favour in taking me away from it;--but I should like to\nknow,\" added he, quickly, \"why you wear so pointed a head-dress, and\nwhy your dress is of so peculiar a colour?\" \"We excuse such childish\nquestions at your age,\" said the Fairy, slightly blushing; \"you will be\nashamed of them some day;--but let us enter the palace, and you will\nfind something to occupy your attention more agreeably.\"\n\nShe then gave him her hand, and they passed into a saloon in keeping\nwith the beauty of the rest of the palace. A hundred black slaves\nwere arranged in two files, through which the Prince and the Fairy\nproceeded to the centre. It was sufficiently light to see the rarities\nwhich ornamented this beautiful place; statues, sculptured marbles,\nporcelain, furniture, were all admired with the taste of a connoisseur\nby the young Prince. The slave opened the door of a magnificent\ngallery, filled with charts, maps of the world, instruments of\ngeometry, models of the most beautiful cities in Asia, Europe, and\nAfrica; of palaces where the men and women of each nation were dressed\nin their national costumes, and by the Fairy's skill they moved hither\nand thither, spoke in their own language, and held conversations\naccording to their position. This amused the Prince for a considerable\ntime. He requested the Fairy to allow him to remain in that gallery a\nlittle longer than she seemed inclined to do.\n\nHe made the slaves who accompanied him explain what this all meant;\nhe bade them repeat it, and was quite enchanted. He recognised the\nFortunate Islands; he saw his tutors seeking for him, and who appeared\nin despair at not finding him--that touched his heart with pity. The\nFairy at length withdrew him from this scene, that he might not witness\nthe catastrophe. She amused him with other objects.\n\nSome islands surrounded by the sea, upon another model, afforded him\ngreat entertainment. Vessels filled with passengers executed some\nwonderful evolutions; then there was a sea-fight, followed by a storm,\nwhich dispersed the ships and sank several of them. This terminated the\ndiversions of this day. The Fairy then proposed supper, after which an\nopera was represented; this was succeeded by a ball, and the Prince\ndanced with the Fairy, and with the nymphs in the Fairy's train, and\nat last six slaves conducted him to a handsome apartment, in which he\nretired to rest.\n\nThe next and following days were passed in conversations, sometimes\nserious, sometimes mirthful; the slaves had orders to cultivate his\ntaste for the arts while amusing him, to which purpose he lent himself\nreadily. He was already accustomed to walk in a second gallery, which\nformed a superb arsenal; he heard them talk of arms and of war with\npleasure; he almost wished to witness a battle, and felt ashamed he had\never thought otherwise. The slaves formed themselves into battalions,\nhe placed himself at their head, he enjoyed his triumph in a sham\nfight, he invented stratagems, he sought for glory everywhere; he no\nlonger feared to be a king. The gallery of models had displayed to him\nthe pleasures of royalty; he passed three hours each day in it, and\ntook lessons from the ablest politicians. The cabinet secrets of all\nthe Courts in the universe were no secrets to him.\n\nThere was a model of the whole globe in that gallery, and what\nart pervaded that grand work! Not only all the kingdoms and their\nvarious provinces, to the smallest habitation, were represented;\nbut every mortal upon the face of the earth was seen in pursuit of\nhis vocation. All spoke their own language, you heard them, you saw\nthem,--the most secret actions were displayed therein: the ocean and\nits vessels, rivers, lakes, streamlets, deserts, even yet undiscovered\ncountries,--nothing was hidden from the learned Cornue. All was to\nbe found in her model. There was wherewithal to amuse one during the\nlongest life that ever was known.\n\nThe Prince was fascinated by this wonderful work of art; he studied it\nfor a long time; he could with difficulty tear himself from it; nor\ndid he consent to do so till the Fairy assured him that this gallery\nforming a portion of his suite of apartments, he might visit it\nwhenever he wished.\n\nHe left it at length to enjoy new pleasures--an opera, a supper,\nfollowed by a magnificent ball, in which the fairies of Cornue's Court\ndistinguished themselves in dancing, notwithstanding they were ugly\nand old, for their mistress took care not to incur the reproach of\nbeing the least handsome person in the Palace; and the designs she had\nupon the heart of the young Prince would not admit of her neglecting\nanything that would bring them to bear.\n\nHis education was entrusted to six fairies, who led him each morning\ninto the gallery of the globe for three hours; they explained the\nvarious interests of Princes, he learned their languages, he heard\nand saw the effect of their politics, their battles by land and sea,\nwhich displayed to him the ability of ministers and of generals.\nAlready he was able to form sound opinions, and to speak of things\nwith the knowledge acquired from experience. His noble mind developed\nitself, he burned with a desire for glory, he blushed at having been\nafraid of it. He also appreciated the pleasures of royalty, he began\nto find a satisfaction in being master, but he did not at all covet\nthe soft and effeminate life which he perceived in the seraglios of\nthe sovereigns of Persia and Constantinople; he preferred those kings\nwho reigned absolutely over their subjects, with a certainty that they\nwould shed their blood to preserve theirs. Insensibly he became the\nmost accomplished Prince living. He was not ignorant upon any point;\nhis fine intellect assisting his slight experience, he evinced in\neverything the greatest judgment and discernment. \"But where can one\nsee this land, and the inhabitants, that I observe in my model?\" said\nhe sometimes to Cornue. \"I will show you some day,\" answered she; \"it\nis not time yet.\" That would vex him; he was desirous of appearing of\nsome consequence himself in this fine plan of the universe, he was\nannoyed at not seeing himself in it. This caused him many reflections,\nbut as they only sprang from his brain, they did not distress him\nmuch--those suggested by the heart, more interesting, he knew nothing\nof yet.\n\nThe Fairy did not fear that the beauties whom he saw in the model\nwould awake in him any emotions contrary to her wishes; they were\nso exceedingly small, that he could but take them for pretty little\npuppets, the largest figure, of a man even, not being taller than\none's thumb. His great amusement was the opera and comedy; he went to\nthem very often: the little figures acted wonderfully well, and as he\nhad a great appreciation of genius, he attended all orations of the\nAcademy,[42] and commented upon them with great sagacity.\n\nUntil he was eighteen years old, this gallery continued to be his\ngreatest pleasure; in fact, he knew no other. At that age he began to\nwish to know the people whose portraits he saw; the Fairy, desirous\nto please him, dared not oppose him too much; she put him off with\npromises, but feared he would escape her. \"I hunt in your park,\" he\nsaid; \"I walk in it; I always see the same things, it tires me; I\nshould like sometimes to see something different.\" \"Ah! truly,\" said\nthe Fairy, \"you have well preserved the faults of human kind. Miserable\nstate of men! Can they be perfectly happy?--they cannot believe\nthemselves to be so, they sigh for what they do not possess, and when\nthey have obtained it they are disgusted with it. Ah! what have you to\nwish for here? do you not reign here? are you not the master? Do you\nfear treachery here, false friends, or bad advisers? We live but to\nplease you; you are all-powerful in this Palace--you command; we obey\nyou. What being could be grander and happier than you are?\"\n\nThe Prince bent his head at the enumeration of all the happiness the\nFairy had surrounded him with, and found that he still desired more.\nHe said nothing, but his uneasiness, his agitation, his weariness,\nappeared in spite of him in all his actions. Cornue increased the\nmagnificence of her dress; the Prince did not notice it; he scarcely\never looked at her. She was disconsolate; for the idea, entertained\never since she had carried him off, the hope of being ardently loved by\nhim, had strengthened with time, and the Prince's increasing beauty had\ncontributed much to her passion. He was just at that happy age in which\nwe please without much trouble, and love with that frankness which is\nso soon discarded.\n\nCornue was enraged that he did not think of her. \"You ought to love me,\nwere it only to amuse you,\" said she to him, one day, when she was very\nmelancholy. \"Love you,\" replied he, looking very vacantly at her; \"do\nI not love you?\" Then, without thinking of it, he added immediately,\n\"I feel certain I shall never love.\" \"Ah! why?\" said the Fairy; \"who\nprevents you?\" \"Nobody,\" he replied; then rose, and took a gun, and\nwent shooting for the rest of the day.\n\nThe Fairy, in despair at his indifference, and fearing she should lose\nhim if she still persisted in opposing him, perceiving also that he\nwas thinner, and that his colour had faded, determined to allow him to\nchange the scene, and for this reason one morning she sent for him.\n\"The time has arrived,\" said she, \"that I can give you your liberty to\nleave the Palace. You will find the vast universe, of which I am about\nto open the roads to you, resemble a very stormy ocean, but since you\nwish to expose yourself to it, I will not detain you; all I advise\nyou to do is to confide in me when in trouble (for you will have much\nto endure before you become King), and to commence your excursions\nby going to my sister Tigreline, and asking her, from me, for the\nwonderful necklace which can alone preserve you from the misfortunes\nattached to your fate. Take this bottle, pour a drop of the spirit\nit contains upon the clouds which surround the park; they will open\nfor you to pass, and this dog will guide you on your way back to the\npalace.\"\n\nThe Prince, who did not expect so great a favour, displayed such\ntransports of gratitude that the Fairy felt nearly recompensed for her\ntrouble by the caresses she received from him. He promised to follow\nher advice upon every point, and set out immediately. The boundaries\nof the park adjoined a forest so wild and frightful that Coquerico\nfound the world was not quite so beautiful as he imagined it to be;\nnotwithstanding, he entered this vast wilderness, accompanied solely\nby his dog. Guided by his faithful companion, he was pursuing a\npath which led to the Forest of Tigers, when suddenly he saw a lion\nof extraordinary size coming straight towards him. At first he was\nstartled at such a meeting, never having seen a lion in Cornue's\npark; but recovering himself a little, he shot an arrow with so true\nan aim that it pierced the lion's heart, and he fell dead at his feet.\nHe proceeded as fast as possible, but his attention was arrested a\nmoment afterwards by frightful roarings. He looked in the direction\nfrom whence they came, and he saw in the distance another lion, running\nat full speed, with a young child on its back; he was about to pursue\nit, but his dog pulled him by the coat so hard that he thought the\nFairy Cornue had appointed this dog to be his guardian, and so, giving\nhimself up to his guidance, he arrived at Tigreline's abode without\nfurther accident.\n\nAs soon as he had told her the reason of his journey, she replied,\n\"Prince Coquerico, you will inform my sister that I have disposed of\nthe necklace that she asks me for; doubtless it was for you she wanted\nit. I hope, however, that it will not fall into your hands so soon,\nwhatever advantage you might desire from it. But to make up for the\nloss of this gift, which I am no longer able to bestow, I warn you that\nif you ever pronounce your name rashly, or without its being absolutely\nnecessary, you will lose, perhaps for ever, that which is most dear to\nyou. I advise you, therefore, to conceal your name from every one, or\nat least not to mention it lightly. Go, Prince, I can do nothing more\nfor you.\"\n\nThe Prince thanked the Fairy very much, kissed her hand, retired, and\nreturned to Cornue's palace, very well satisfied with the little he had\nseen. He was received most graciously; they asked him many questions;\nhe related all his adventures; he fancied he should never have finished\ntalking about them, everything had seemed of such singular beauty to\nhim. He was in high spirits all the evening. They praised him, they\ncaressed him, but that did not content him. He was resolved to go out\nagain, and the Fairy, perceiving how good-tempered he was, permitted\nhim to do as he wished. For a whole year he roamed to the furthest\nextent of the beautiful country in the neighbourhood; sometimes he went\non horseback, and often dismounted to sleep under the trees during the\nheat of the day. This sort of exercise increased his stature and his\nstrength. He was now in the prime of his beauty.\n\nHe was very anxious to ask the Fairy to restore him to his subjects;\nhe was tired of this life of privation; his mind, as fine as his\nperson, made him anxious to revisit his kingdom; but he dared not as\nyet request Cornue's permission, lest he should appear ungrateful.\nThis brought back his former melancholy. Cornue became alarmed; she\nendeavoured to amuse him in every imaginable way. He scarcely ever went\nout; he passed his days almost entirely in the gallery of models, and\nwhen he saw a battle he could not be got away from it. What was still\nworse, he one day witnessed the coronation of a young King. At this\nsight they thought he would go mad. The shouts of joy, the warlike\ninstruments, the pomp of the ceremony, transported him with anger as\nwell as delight. \"Why, then,\" said he, \"am I to be imprisoned here\nduring my youth, when I could be at the head of these people, making\neither war or peace, enjoying really my rights of birth? They would\ndetain me here, a captive, render me as effeminate as Achilles at\nthe Court of Licomedia. Can I not find a Ulysses who will come to my\nrescue?\" He would have given still greater vent to his vexation had\nthey not come to announce to him that the Fairy was waiting for him\nto order them to begin an opera she had commanded the performance of.\n\"What, always some f\u00eate?\" said he. \"Well,\" he continued, \"I must submit\nto it.\"\n\nThe opera they were to perform was _Armide_.[43] The Fairy, who had\nbeen told what an ill-humour the Prince was in, watched him during\nthe performance. She thought that he seemed amused by it, for he was\nso attentive to the piece. The fourth and fifth acts he certainly did\nthink wonderful; he spoke of it the whole of the evening; he admired\nabove everything the idea of the shield which restored the hero to\nglory. \"What,\" said the Fairy; \"does not Armida interest you at all?\nDo you not pity her? So much affection deserves a better recompense.\"\n\"By my faith, Madam,\" replied the Prince, \"your Armida has what she\ndeserves. I should like to know if the heart is to be commanded; I\nbelieve it to be perfectly independent of the will, as far as I am\nconcerned.\" Cornue felt the cruelty of this answer, but she did not\nappear to do so, and turned the conversation to another subject.\n\nThe Prince retired early, that he might go the next day shooting.\nThis was the day that his hand was wounded by the beautiful Lionette's\narrow. Upon returning to the Fairy's palace the Prince considered\nwhether he should speak of this adventure; he was astonished at himself\nfor wishing to keep it a secret. A sweet feeling (hitherto unknown to\nhim) stole over his mind, and took such possession of it that he was\nunable to conceal it. He asked himself what it could mean, and he could\nfind no reason for it. The name of Lionette enchanted him. He repeated\nit incessantly. The grace, the beauty of this young girl enchanted him,\nand he found himself within the palace without being aware how he had\narrived there. It was then he began to recover himself a little.\n\nUnder the effect of this intoxicating feeling, he said a thousand\ngallant things to the Fairy. She was surprised at it, but flattering\nherself that her charms had produced this alteration, she did not\ninquire the reason of such extraordinary joy. His wound made her\nuneasy, but he took care to tell her that he had hurt himself with one\nof his own arrows, and the enamoured Cornue, anxious about everything\nthat concerned him, cured it by breathing upon it, without further\ninquiry. He was in charming spirits for the rest of the day; Cornue\nthought he had lost his senses; she ordered some music that he thought\ndelightful, although he had heard the same every day without noticing\nit--so much does love embellish the slightest objects. His passion led\nhim to indulge in delicious meditations, and to discover in his heart\nthe existence of emotions he had never dreamed of. He retired early,\nand hastened to the gallery, seeking for a representation of her whom\nhe had seen during the day--he was successful in his search; he saw\nthe lovely Lionette seated between the old people in the cavern, and\nwhen, on separating for the night, they extinguished the light, and\nshe was in darkness, he still remained gazing in the direction of the\ncavern, and did not leave the gallery until the following morning\nwas sufficiently advanced for him to go and meet the lovely huntress\nherself. In traversing the forest he lost himself, and that was the\ncause of his being so long before he rejoined his beautiful Lionette.\n\nUnfortunately for the Fairy, her skill was now useless to her--from\nthe moment Fairies fall in love, their art cannot protect them; when\nthey recover their reason they regain their power; but in the interim\nthey can neither punish their rivals nor discover them, unless chance\nassist them, as it might common mortals. Three months elapsed without\nher having an idea of the cause of the change in Prince Coquerico;\nshe heard no more of his ambitious aspirations; a country life and\nretirement was all he now desired; he dressed himself as a shepherd; he\ncomposed eclogues and madrigals; he engraved them upon the trees in the\npark, accompanied by gallant and amorous devices that the Fairy could\nnot understand. When she asked him for an explanation, he smiled, and\ntold her it was not for him to instruct so learned a person as she was.\n\"Ask your own heart, Madam,\" added he, \"that will teach you; it was\nmine that dictated it all to me.\"\n\nThe Fairy was quite contented with this answer; she interpreted it\naccording to her own wishes, but she could not reconcile to herself the\nPrince's frequent absence, after all he had said to her; for he went\nout the first thing in the morning, and did not return till the last\nthing at night. She passed whole days in thinking about new dresses\nand different entertainments. As she had a lively imagination, she\nsucceeded with the latter, but the former were absolutely useless--her\nage and her horn entirely defeated all attempts at decoration. It was\nupon this occasion that she invented the _Bal-Masqu\u00e9s_, which have been\never since so successful. The Prince often indulged in this agreeable\ndelusion, and with his heart full of the beautiful Lionette, he spoke\nto the Fairy as though he were addressing his love, and the credulous\nCornue took it all to herself.\n\nTowards the end of the third month of this intense and secret passion,\nthe Prince at length resolved to ask the Fairy to conduct him to his\nown kingdom. It was not ambition that induced him to wish it, but a\nhigher and more delicate sentiment. Why conceal it? Love itself made\nhim anxious to ascend the throne, that he might place the beautiful\nLionette on it beside him. He had scarcely spoken to the Fairy about\nit before she consented, flattering herself that he wished to share\nhis crown with her. With what pleasure did she order everything for\nhis departure. The Prince, as we know, took leave of his lovely\nshepherdess, and set out, with the Fairy and a numerous suite, for the\nkingdom of the Fortunate Isles. Cornue was seated with him in a car of\nrock crystal, drawn by a dozen unicorns; their harness was of gold and\nrubies, as brilliant as the sun. A dozen other chariots, as pompous,\nfollowed; and the Prince, as beautiful as Cupid, and magnificently\ndressed, attracted the attention of every one. He had most carefully\nconcealed the necklace that the lovely Lionette had given him; he wore\nit on his left arm as a bracelet, and his dress covered it. He was\ndelighted at the thought of appearing before Lionette in such grand\napparel, and to read in her looks the joy such proof of his love would\ngive her; but he could not help feeling a secret anxiety, which at\ntimes cast a cloud over his mind; he attributed it to the distance\nbetween him and his love, and sometimes he thought he had done wrong in\ngoing so far away from her. \"The happiness I am seeking, is it worth\nwhat I lose?\" said he. \"Lionette loves me as she has seen me; will she\nlove me more for possessing a crown? Ah! Lionette, I know you too well\nto wrong you so much; your noble and simple heart only estimates that\ntrue grandeur which places man above his fellows by the elevation of\nhis mind.\"\n\nAt length he arrived at the Fortunate Isles, and the people, delighted\nto see their Prince again, received him with acclamations. He was\ncrowned, and by the attentions of the enamoured Cornue, the ceremony\nwas followed by magnificent f\u00eates, in which the Prince, from gratitude,\ninsisted on her sharing all the honours. The f\u00eates ended, and the\naffairs of this fine kingdom put in order by the Fairy and the\nministers she had chosen, she determined to have a complete explanation\nwith the King, and began by adroitly proposing that he should marry.\nShe had gained the ministers over to her wishes, and induced them to\njoin in the proposition she had made to him; but who can tell Cornue's\nastonishment when the young Prince replied by acknowledging his love\nfor the beautiful Lionette, and entreating her to assist in rendering\nhim happy, by enabling him to share his throne with the object of his\naffections! \"Ah! where have you seen this Lionette?\" replied the Fairy,\nwith a look in which astonishment, rage, and vexation were equally\nvisible. \"What, then,\" added she, \"is this the return for my care of\nyou?\" The Prince, astonished at this sharp reply, and not fearing\nher reproaches, ended by relating his interview with Lionette, and\npainted his affection in such glowing colours that she plainly saw\nthe opposition she might make against it would only tend to irritate\nhim and increase his passion; then cleverly making her decision, \"I\nwould not speak thus to you,\" said she, \"but to reproach you for\nyour want of confidence, that you did not open your heart to me. I\nshould have served you better, and Lionette would have been to-day\nQueen of the Fortunate Isles; but you have acted like a young man\nwithout experience, and I doubt if I can serve you at present as I\ncould otherwise have done.\" \"Ah! Madam,\" replied the King, \"you can if\nyou will. Give me your chariot, and let me go and seek my beautiful\nLionette.\" \"I will do better for you,\" said she, with a forced smile;\n\"I will go with you as soon as it strikes midnight; hold yourself in\nreadiness; we shall be on our way back before the sun is up, and I know\nno other means of satisfying your impatience.\"\n\nThe Prince embraced the Fairy's knees, transported with joy and\ngratitude, which wounded her much more than his unfortunate confidence;\nshe took leave of him under a pretext of consulting her books, but\nreally because she could not contain herself, and her fury had\nrisen to a most horrible height. Who could describe it? All that an\namorous, jealous, and mistaken woman could feel, she, as a Fairy, felt\nstill more; nor could the most forcible language paint but feebly\nthe tortures which racked her heart. She had promised, however,\nto accompany the Prince; but that would enable her to execute the\nvengeance she meditated.\n\nShe felt the more assured of her revenge as the Prince had let the\nnecklace fall from his arm, and had left her without being aware of\nhis loss. She picked it up, and thanking the stars for so lucky an\naccident, no longer delayed taking measures for her revenge, which\nwould have been useless without that precious necklace. She closed\nthe doors of her apartment, that her absence might not be perceived,\nand desired the King might be told she must consult her books in\nprivate, and at midnight she would be visible. She mounted a flying\ndragon, and speedily arrived in the cavern, where everything was in\nprofound repose; the dragon sneezed, which was like a clap of thunder,\nand enough to rend the cavern. She accomplished, as we have already\nseen, her wicked intentions, and returned to the Fortunate Isles as\nthe clock struck eleven. She could hardly restrain her delight while\nwaiting for the King; but soon the idea of his being in love, and\nwithout doubt loved in return, renewed her fury; she was in a transport\nof rage when he entered her room with an eagerness which assisted not a\nlittle to increase it.\n\nShe endeavoured to calm herself, or rather to dissemble her rage;\nher fury was at such a height that her horn was in a flame, and the\nenamoured and too credulous Coquerico, thinking it was an attention she\nwas paying him to guide him in the darkness of the night, thanked her\na thousand times for this precaution. They mounted a chariot drawn by\nthree owls, set off at full speed, and descended in the forest close to\nthe cavern wherein Lionette had been reared. The Prince only knew it\nfrom Lionette's description of it. Love invests with interest the most\ntrifling circumstance connected with its object.\n\nHe had often asked her to describe the place she inhabited. He\nremembered every little detail distinctly. He could not be deceived;\nbesides, he knew her bow and arrow that were in the cabinet in which\nshe slept. His grief was excessive at not finding her; he called her,\nhe went in and out of the cavern a thousand and a thousand times, he\nentreated the Fairy to throw a light from her horn upon places that\nwere obscure, and seeing some little pictures she had painted--\"Ah!\nthis is her work,\" cried he; \"I will preserve them all my life.\" The\nFairy was so irritated at his transports, that she threw out a flame\nfrom her horn, which in a moment destroyed everything that was in the\ncavern.\n\nThe Prince had great difficulty to save himself from this\nconflagration. The Fairy protected him, however, and triumphed within\nherself at the absence of her rival. She advised the Prince to seek\nfor her elsewhere. \"Perhaps,\" said she, \"her parents have married her;\nor perhaps,\" she continued, ironically, \"grief at your loss has caused\nher death.\" \"I know not what has happened,\" said the Prince, in a tone\nwhich marked the agitation of his mind, and distracted at not being\nable to find his mistress; \"but I would rather believe her to be dead\nthan unfaithful; and if it be true that she exists no longer, very soon\nI shall follow her to the grave.\" \"Here is a furious determination of a\nlover!\" cried the Fairy; but considering that under the circumstances\nit would be better not to irritate the King, she changed her tone.\n\"What I have said,\" pursued she, \"is to prove the interest I take in\nyou. I am sorry you should have conceived an affection for a person\nof such low extraction, and I cannot sufficiently thank Fate that, in\naccordance with my own opinion, has removed this shepherdess, and thus\nassisted your heart to recover from its error.\" \"I know not if Fate has\nassisted you to drive me mad,\" replied the Prince, sharply; \"but if so,\nI feel she has been more successful in that attempt than the other.\nAs to Lionette, I will repair the defect, if it be one, to be born of\nobscure parents,--not that I believe it possible for her to be what\nshe appears. In any case, however, happy are the princesses who are as\nhigh-minded as she is.\"\n\nThe Prince now, seeing how uselessly he was seeking for her in this\nplace, entered the chariot again with the Fairy, and returned to the\nFortunate Isles, where they arrived at sunrise without having spoken a\nsingle word, both of them occupied--the one by her fury, the other by\nhis grief.\n\nThe King, upon his return, shut himself up in his palace, and thought\nof nothing but by what steps he might recover Lionette. It occurred to\nhim he ought to go to Tigreline. This resolution taken, he proceeded\nto Cornue to tell her his project. \"I cannot imagine,\" said he to\nher, \"why you do not assist me in this affair; is your power so\nlimited? Is Tigreline's more extensive than yours?--for I believe,\"\nhe added, instantly, \"you are so interested in my happiness, that\nyou would exert all the skill you possess to increase it, if it were\npossible. I could not even doubt it, without being ungrateful. I have\nhad sufficient proofs to be quite sure of it, and I feel that I can\nnever forget them.\" Cornue blushed at this question, which she did not\nexpect, and becoming acquainted with the extent of her misfortune by\nthe latter part of the King's discourse. \"It is in consequence of that\nvery affection I have for you,\" said she, \"as you ought to know, that\nI will not serve you in fostering a passion that would diminish your\nglory; and if you are as grateful as you say you are for the care I\nhave taken to make you happy, and for preserving your life, you will\ndiscard an infatuation which will be your ruin. What an idea will your\npeople--will the whole universe--have of a king so little master of\nhimself that he runs after a poor shepherdess, to give her a crown\nwhich he might share with the first princesses in the world--no matter\nwhom: perhaps even a fairy might not have disdained to partake of one\nwith you.\" These last words, which escaped her in spite of herself,\nopened the King's eyes, and looking at the Fairy with astonishment, he\nwas convinced of the truth of his suspicions when he saw her standing\nsilent, confused, and carefully avoiding his gaze.\n\nIt was some time before he could find words to answer, from his\nexcessive astonishment; but unwilling either to irritate the Fairy at\nthe moment he so much wanted her assistance, or to encourage a hope\nthat he felt incapable of sustaining. \"The knowledge you have of the\nhuman heart, Madam,\" said he, at last, \"ought to have taught you that\na King cannot dispense with the laws of nature more than other men. So\npure and intense a passion as I have for Lionette is not of a character\nto be easily extinguished. Why did you not exert your power to render\nme insensible? I should not then have felt the grief I have to-day, nor\nthe happiness you speak of. This choice of a great princess or of a\nfairy who would deign to receive my vows and my crown--this happiness,\nI say, does not at all affect me. Is it necessary that to be happy I\nmust sacrifice myself for ever to the whims of my people? I must choose\nfor myself. I would willingly make them happy. I feel a pleasure even\nin desiring and being able to do so--but what can it signify to them\nwho I give them for their Queen? I value my greatness only because\nit enables me to elevate her whom I love. This sweet pleasure would\ninduce me to support the weight of a crown; without it, what would be\nevery other enjoyment? And am I compelled, because I am their master,\nto be deprived of the only pleasure I sigh for? No, Madam; in giving\nthem Lionette I consider that I make them as happy as I make myself.\nShould they refuse to receive her, they will repent their temerity; and\nwhoever ventures to oppose me will find that my love has not made me\nforget I am a king.\"\n\n\"Proceed, ungrateful one! Proceed to destroy me!\" said the Fairy.\n\"You know too well all the violence of my love for you, and you only\npretend not to see it to overwhelm me the more by your severity. It is\nI--it is I only--who will expose myself to the danger of resisting thy\nbase inclinations. Dare to punish me, and so complete the measure of\nyour crimes! But how wilt thou do it? Thou art in my power, and the\nnecklace which I hold, and which dropped from thine arm yesterday in my\nroom, will revenge me for thy ingratitude.\" In saying this, she arose,\nand touching the King with her wand as he advanced to recover his\nmistress's love-token, she transformed him into a cock; then, opening\none of the windows, she threw him down into the court of the palace;\nafter which, assembling the Council, she informed them that the King\nhad absented himself upon urgent business, and she, not being able to\nremain longer in that kingdom, had determined to appoint a regent. This\naffair concluded, she ascended her chariot and disappeared from their\nsight.\n\nThe King was dizzy with his fall, but his wings had supported him,\nin spite of himself, and when he had a little recovered his senses\nhe jumped upon a balustrade of white and rose-coloured marble,\nwhich surrounded a piece of magnificent water in the centre of\nthe court-yard, to see himself in it. He was astounded at his\nappearance--not but that he was the most beautiful bird in the world;\nhis body seemed as though it was covered with emeralds,--his wings were\nof a bright rose-colour, and on his head was a crest of brilliants,\nwhich threw out a most dazzling light,--his tail was a plume of green\nand rose-colour,--his feet, of the latter hue, with claws blacker than\nebony, and his beak was a single ruby.\n\nWe will leave this unhappy King reflecting upon the cruelty of this\ntransformation, and return to Lionette, whom we left still more\nunhappy. This beautiful Princess, after having been six months amongst\nthe tigers of the Fairy Tigreline, deploring her sad fate, was at\nlength withdrawn from them by the Fairy herself, who pitying her\nsituation, came to seek her and carry her to her palace, with both her\nunfortunate companions. Then, after caressing them and conducting them\nto a very comfortable den, she said to the Princess, \"My dear Lionette,\nyou have been a sufficiently long time punished for your imprudence\nin having given away your necklace, without my adding further useless\nremonstrances to the misery you endure in not being able to change\nyour form until you have recovered that talisman; therefore, my dear\nchild, I shall not scold you any more--on the contrary, I will mitigate\nyour penalty as much as I can, and I am going to prove it to you by\nrestoring your good guardians to their natural forms, that they may\nhave the pleasure of talking to you, and consoling you.\" Poor Lionette\nthrew herself at the Fairy's feet, and by the tears she shed, evinced\nat the same time her joy and her sorrow at not being able to answer\nher. Tigreline touched the Lion and Lioness with her wand; in an\ninstant they resumed their human form, and after embracing the Fairy's\nknees, they embraced Lionette a thousand times, who returned their\ncaresses as well as she could.\n\nAfter this affecting scene, at which even Tigreline herself could\nnot restrain her tears, she thus addressed the old man and his wife:\n\"Good people, the days of your transformation will not be reckoned\nin the term of your existence, neither will Lionette's when she has\npassed through hers. Live to serve and console her until the time of\nher severe punishment shall have ended. I will not have her shut up\nany longer; she can run freely about my gardens and in my forest; as\nfor yourselves, you will remain in my palace, and have charge of her.\nLet us wait patiently for time to bring about a more happy termination\nto this adventure than I can dare to hope for, and at least by our\nfortitude cause Fate to blush for her injustice.\" The Fairy ceased\nspeaking, and embraced Lionette with all her heart. Lionette's was\nso full that she shed a torrent of tears, and uttered groans which\nincreased the affliction both of the Fairy and the good people.\n\nShe spent her days in the forest, hunting game, which the Fairy had\nordered to be put there for her. The tigers respected and saluted her\nwhenever she passed. She reclined during the heat of the day in the\nmost secluded and shady places, meditating on her fate, and feeling\nless distressed at her own situation than at the absence or the loss of\nPrince Coquerico. She sighed affectionately at the remembrance of him,\nand her greatest grief was her separation from him. She scrawled with\nher talons on the barks of the trees rudely formed initials, hearts and\narrows, and wept over her lover's and her own misfortune. At night she\nreturned to her den, and to the Fairy, who showed her great kindness.\nThe old man and his wife amused her by relating anecdotes to her.\n\nOne day that she was at the Fairy's with her guardians, she seized a\nsheet of paper and a pen, and wrote a request to the Fairy that she\nwould tell her who she was. She presented it to Tigreline, who, as she\nwas very clever, contrived to read what the Lioness had written. (No\none but a Fairy could well have deciphered it.) She sighed, and raised\nher eyes to Heaven, then looking affectionately at Lionette, she said,\n\"I am going to satisfy you, my dear Lionette. The trials that mortals\nencounter often serve as lessons to persons of your rank. May it please\nthe just gods that those which you have endured from the commencement\nof your life be the only trials ordained for you. But do not cease to\nbear them with resignation and courage. You are a Princess, my dear\nchild; they did not deceive you when they told you so; you are the\ndaughter of the King of the Island of Gold; the Queen, your mother,\ndied in giving birth to you, and the King, your father, resolved not\nto marry again, that he might preserve the crown for you. You were\nscarcely four years old when a fugitive Queen, driven from her kingdom,\ncame to implore your father's assistance to regain the throne that her\nrebellious subjects had made her descend from, for having persisted\nin reigning to the prejudice of her only son, whom she detained at a\ndistance from the capital, for fear he should claim the sceptre.\n\n\"This ambitious Princess, perceiving that the King, your father,\nwould afford his assistance too slowly for her impatience, turned\nher thoughts in another direction. She cared not where she reigned,\nprovided she did reign. She therefore resolved to marry your father;\nbut knowing he did not wish for an increase of family that might\ndeprive you of the crown, and that consequently as long as you lived\nhe would never marry, she came to consult me. She did not attempt to\nconceal from me her sanguinary intentions respecting you; and I knew if\nI were mistress of the necklace that she wore, I should be able to save\nyour life.[44] I listened, therefore, quietly to her, notwithstanding\nthe horror that these propositions gave me of her. 'Queen,' said I\nto her, 'you will never obtain your object until I have possession\nof your necklace. Give it to me, and be sure of the success of your\nundertaking.' 'A Fairy who presided at my birth,' said she, 'commanded\nthat I should always wear it.' Those were her only words; but since\nit has not prevented my falling from the throne to which my birth had\nentitled me, I part with it willingly, and place it in your hands,\nrelying much more on your assistance than on the pretended charm to\nmake me happy.' 'Go,' said I, 'return to the Island of Gold, and wait\npatiently the effect of my power, and above all, do not attempt the\nlife of the young Princess; I will serve you without adopting such\ncruel means.'\n\n\"She returned to the Island, and after some time, married your father.\nThat very day I transported you, with the King and the Queen, into the\ncavern where the old man found you, and changed them both into Lions.\nThe King because I feared his weakness, and the Queen to punish her\nfor her wickedness. I not only took from her the power of doing you\nany harm, but obliged her to take care of you. As for the King, I knew\nI need not inspire him with feelings of humanity; he retained them,\nnotwithstanding the natural ferocity of the animal into which I had\ntransformed him.\"\n\nPoor Lionette at these words interrupted the Fairy by a melancholy\nroar. Tigreline smiled, and caressing the Lioness, \"Take courage, my\ndear girl,\" said she; \"you mourn the death of a good father; your\nsusceptible heart will feel equal joy in learning that I have saved his\nlife; that he is at present residing in a part of the world to which I\ntransported him after I had cured his wound; and that he is as anxious\nto see you again as you can possibly desire.\" Lionette, who was couched\nupon a great stone at the feet of the Fairy, licked her hand softly,\nto show her gratitude, and her eyes sparkled with so much pleasure\nthat the Fairy, delighted at the effect of her good-tidings, kissed\nher most tenderly. \"As for the Lioness, your mother-in-law,\" continued\nTigreline, \"she died, not from grief at losing the Lion, but from rage\nat finding her projects frustrated by his death, which she really\nbelieved; and the tears you have shed for her were far more than she\ndeserved for the unwilling care she took of you.\"\n\nThe Fairy had arrived at this point in her story, when in at the window\nflew a cock of singular beauty, and perched upon her shoulder; they\nwere all very much astonished; the Fairy, who was spinning, let fall\nher spindle, but quickly recovering herself, she held out her finger\nto the bird, which jumped upon it, and flapping its wings in token of\ngratitude, crowed out \"Coquerico\" two or three times. At the first\nnote the Lioness took fright, and ran off as fast as possible,[45] her\nguardians following her. In the meanwhile, Tigreline examined the bird,\nand seeing how wonderfully beautiful he was, immediately unravelled\nthe mystery of this adventure. \"Prince,\" said she, \"I believe I know\nyou, and I am much deceived if you have not just told me your name.\"\nThe Prince (for it was he) stooped his beak to her feet, as making a\nlow bow to the Fairy. \"Oh, Heavens!\" cried she, \"is it possible there\nshould be such a complicated chain of misfortunes. The barbarous being\nwho has reduced you to this sad state has only allowed you the power of\npronouncing a name which is the cause of all kinds of evil to you. It\nhas even now occasioned your Princess to fly from you, and perhaps it\nmay have been the last time in your life that you could have seen her.\"\n\nThe Cock at these words looked at the Fairy with amazement; he had\nonly perceived in the room a lioness and two old people; he could\nnot comprehend these words of Tigreline; she read his thoughts, for\nhe could not express them. \"She was here, I tell you,\" replied she,\n\"and I forgive you for not recognising her; but if my sister, the\ncruel Cornue, has been able to change you into a cock, has she not\nthe power also of turning the Princess into a lion?\" The Cock felt\nas if he should faint at this cruel news. \"Oh, Fate! pitiless Fate!\"\ncontinued the Fairy, \"how blind are thy decrees! Why dost thou punish\nthe innocent, and let the guilty live?\" Her thoughts would have quite\nabsorbed her if her eyes had not fallen upon the poor bird, who had\nfallen down, and appeared dying. She took him in her arms, and giving\nhim some wonderful liquid to smell, he recovered his senses, but sighed\nbitterly at being compelled to see the light again. \"Do not distress\nyourself, my dear Prince,\" said the Fairy, \"I will use all my skill to\nassist you; but to ensure my success you must second my endeavours. I\ncannot render you perfectly happy so long as Cornue is in possession of\nthe necklace, and it is only through you that I can recover it. Repose\nyourself, dear Prince; my books that I am going to consult to-night\nwill enlighten me as to what we shall do to-morrow.\"\n\nThe King could not sufficiently express his gratitude--he pressed his\nbeak on the Fairy's hand, and squeezed her arm gently with his claw--in\nshort, he displayed as much feeling as he possibly could. Tigreline,\nafter giving him something to eat and to drink, which he scarcely\ntouched, placed him upon a shelf in her cabinet, and then saluting\nhim, retired to her chamber to set about the work she had promised to\nundertake for him.\n\nWhile this was passing, poor Lionette, overcome with a fear she could\nnot recover from, fled with all her might, and had already gone far\nbeyond the Forest of Tigers, notwithstanding those animals had used\nall their endeavours to detain her, for they were all fond of her, and\nseveral of them were even in love with her; but she had forced her way\nthrough every obstacle, and having no guide but terror, still believing\nthe Cock was pursuing her, she ran a hundred leagues at once, and never\nstopped till her strength failed her. Her poor guardians called to\nher and sought for her in vain; they returned very much distressed at\ndaybreak to the Fairy, to tell her of Lionette's flight.\n\nThe Fairy, who knew that if Lionette went beyond the limits of the\nforest she had no longer any power over her, and that she would be\nentirely at Cornue's mercy, left her unwillingly to her fate, and\nthought only of being of service to King Coquerico. She entered the\ncabinet wherein he had passed the night, to tell him what he had to\ndo. He flapped his wings at her arrival, and flew to the ground to\nkiss the hem of her robe. The Fairy took him on her hand, placed him\non a little table, and drew it up in front of an arm-chair, in which\nshe seated herself. \"Great King,\" said she, \"the destiny that has\nnursed you since your birth commands me to tell you that you will not\nregain your natural form but upon very severe conditions. You must be\nsufficiently fortunate to recover from Cornue the necklace given to you\nby Lionette. If you fail to do so, you can never become a human being\nagain but by marrying Cornue. In that case, if Lionette, whom my wicked\nsister insists upon being a witness to this ceremony, can restrain\nthe grief it must cause her, I foresee that you may become happy at\nlast; but if she have not the courage to support the terrible sight\nof that marriage, I will not be answerable for anything.\" Coquerico at\nthese words bent his head and shed tears, at which the Fairy was much\naffected. \"A tender heart,\" said the Fairy, \"is pardonable, and even\ndesirable in a King. Your grief, according to this principle, is very\nexcusable, but you must not abandon yourself too much to sorrow. Leave\nto vulgar minds, my lord, complaints and lamentations, and without\nwishing to be stronger than humanity demands, courageously resist the\nblows of fate, and if you only succeed in testing your fortitude, and\nfinding it cannot be shaken, you ought to be content. It is the first\nof all advantages, and yet one we rarely ask of the gods, because we do\nnot know the value of it. Take this bottle, and endeavour to throw a\ndrop of the liquid that is in it upon Cornue. That will make her swoon\naway, and you will then obtain your object.\"\n\nCoquerico, who was in no hurry to depart, looked at the Fairy to ask\nher to explain herself still further: she understood what he would\nsay. She related in a few words Lionette's history. He thanked her in\nthe most affectionate manner he could, and he now recollected that the\nFairy, in speaking of her previously, had more than once called her the\nPrincess. He was enchanted to learn that this lovely girl was of such\nhigh birth, but that did not increase his affection for her. Nothing,\nindeed, could augment it. It was not so with respect to his indignation\nagainst Cornue. Every moment it became stronger, particularly when the\nFairy, at the end of her narration, told him that the unhappy Princess\nhad taken flight at his crowing, as well as at his name, from the\nantipathy that lions had naturally to the crowing of a cock, that the\nmalicious Cornue had increased it in the case of Lionette, that he had\nso frightened her that she had flown beyond the bounds of the forest,\nand that she might have fallen already into Cornue's power, as, having\nonce quitted the Forest of Tigers, she could not possibly re-enter it\ntill she had resumed her own shape.\n\nKing Coquerico was instantly anxious to depart, and indicated it as\nwell as he could to Tigreline, who could understand at half a word.\nAfter embracing him, and fastening the bottle under his right wing, she\nopened her window, and he flew away, perfectly resolved that rather\nthan crow to frighten the lions, he would be devoured by them.\n\nTo what fearful extent can passions increase in the hearts of those\nwho do not try to conquer them? The implacable Cornue, distracted by\nturns, or rather at the same moment, by the most violent love and\nby the most frightful jealousy, spent her days in the Opal Palace,\nmeditating the deepest revenge against her rival and her lover. What\nmore could she desire? Were they not sufficiently wretched? They could\nnot recognise each other, and flew from one another as soon as they\nmet. Could anything more cruel be imagined? Poor Lionette, overcome by\nfatigue, fell down from faintness and fright upon some beautiful green\nturf, which answered as a bed for the moment. She had run an hundred\nleagues without stopping, as we have said before, and with incredible\nswiftness, for she had quitted the Fairy in the evening, and by sunrise\nnext morning found herself in this strange country. So true it is that\nfear lends one wings. She looked around her, and saw nothing but that\ngreen sward, through which flowed a clear stream, refreshing the grass\nand the little wild flowers that adorned it. She slept there profoundly\nafter drinking of the beautiful water, which possessed the property not\nonly to quench thirst, but at the same time to appease hunger.\n\nShe slept for fifteen hours. When she awoke she felt much refreshed,\nand continued her journey along the bank, at the end of which she saw a\npalace, of architecture as simple as it was wonderful. She entered it\nby a beautiful portico of foliage; in it she saw cabinets, chambers,\nand galleries, all formed of green hedges, and what charmed her\nparticularly was, that in the middle of each room were large groups\nof flowers of all sorts, that greeted her with most friendly bows,\nand said with one accord, as she approached, \"Good morning, beautiful\nLionette.\" This wonderfully astonished her; she stopped at a tube-rose\nplant that had saluted her still more graciously than the rest. \"Lovely\nflowers,\" said she to them, \"by what happy chance is it that you have\ngiven me the power of speech, that all the skill and friendship of\nthe generous Tigreline could not restore to me? Is it you that have\ndone this? Tell me, that I may return my thanks to you?\" \"The stream\nthat has quenched your thirst, beautiful Lionette,\" replied one of the\ntube-roses, \"has the merit of it; we have no power, and it is only\nwhen we are watered by it that we have the faculty of hearing, seeing,\nand expressing ourselves. We are flowers from the garden of the Fairy\nCornue; for some time past she has been very sad; she came to converse\nwith us, but we were unable to comfort her; perhaps that task was\nreserved for you; you must use your endeavours. She will not return for\ntwo days, as she was here yesterday; her palace is some distance from\nthis; wait for her, we will do all we possibly can to amuse you till\nshe returns.\"\n\nThe Tube-rose then ceased speaking, although she was naturally a little\ntalkative, but she yielded from politeness to Lionette's desire to\nask some questions. \"I should like to know, obliging Tube-rose,\" said\nLionette, \"if Cornue, of whom you speak, and to whom you belong, is a\nbeautiful fairy; and then I should be obliged by your telling me how\nyou knew my name and who I was as soon as you saw me.\" \"A Rose-tree,\nwho is the oracle of this place,\" replied the Tube-rose, \"at the last\nsacrifice made to it by the Fairy, our mistress, predicted that a\ngreat princess, in the form of a lion, would one day come hither, and\nthat here she would terminate all her distress. The Fairy displayed\nimmoderate joy at this; she redoubled the incense and the bees, they\nbeing the only victims that are immolated here. This is an answer to\nyour two questions at once, for by the Fairy's delight you can easily\nconceive her good intentions towards you.\"\n\nThe innocent Lionette thought there was great truth in the tube-rose's\nconjectures; she thanked her heartily, and begged she would inform her\nwhere the Rose-tree was, that she might consult it as to what conduct\nshe ought to adopt. The Tube-rose directed her, and she soon found the\nspot; it was not far from the cabinet of tube-roses. This apartment\nhad some appearance of a temple, the hedges forming an arch above\nthe Rose-tree, which preserved it from the heat of the sun; a little\nbalustrade of jasmine and pomegranate trees surrounded this beautiful\nplant, which was covered with so many roses that it was quite dazzling.\nThe Lioness was obliged to shut her eyes once or twice: she tremblingly\napproached the balustrade, and prostrating herself, respectfully said,\n\"Divinity of this lovely place, deign to receive my homage, and tell me\nmy destiny.\"\n\nThe Rose-tree at these words appeared to be much agitated, the leaves\nand flowers trembled, and became pale. Then a voice interrupted by sobs\nissued from its branches, and Lionette heard the following words:--\n\n    To the severe decree of Fate\n    In blind submission bend.\n    A Princess, most unfortunate,\n    Will here her sorrows end.\n\nThe Princess was frightened at the indications of grief the Rose-tree\ngave way to, and if the first words overwhelmed her, the latter\nencouraged her a little. \"Alas!\" said she, \"I fear nothing but the\nprolongation of my existence; if I should end my miserable life here, I\nshould bless the fate that led me to this spot; but wise and generous\nRose-tree, before ending my days, may I not know if he to whom I would\nwillingly consecrate them still lives; and if he is happy, wherever he\nmay be? This is my only anxiety. I should die without one regret if I\nknew that his destiny was decided.\" The rose-bush was again strongly\nagitated, and thus replied:--\n\n    For the last time, at thy desire,\n    I raise my warning voice:--\n    Thy lover only will expire\n    Shouldst thou oppose his choice.\n\n\"Ah! wise Divinity,\" exclaimed the affectionate Lioness, \"I will ask\nyou nothing more; if he live, I am too happy. May I alone suffer from\nthe severity of the Fairies! Their persecutions appear as nothing to\nme if he be exempted from them, and I permitted to see him happy.\nAh! why should I fetter his inclinations? Alas! the choice which I\nshould be opposed to, whatever it might be, would never offend me;\nwhat can he owe me? and what can I offer him worthy of his merits? The\nunfortunate Lionette not having it in her power to make him happy,\nshould not prevent him from becoming so, at least I may be permitted\nthe desire of being the cause of it.\" Saying this, she retired to the\ncabinet of the tube-roses, where she passed the night talking of her\nshepherd, and telling her love for him to her faithful friend, who in\nreturn more fully informed her what she knew of the Fairy Cornue and\nof her floral companions. \"As for the oracular Rose-tree,\" said she,\n\"all we know is, it is not of the rose-tree race, it was here when we\ncame, and I believe that the Fairy, to embellish its dwelling-place,\ntransplanted us hither; it speaks without being watered, and appears\nbut little amused by our conversation. It is naturally melancholy, and\nyou have seen for yourself it has a perfect knowledge of the past, the\npresent, and the future. The Fairy passes whole days, when she comes\nhere, in talking to it; rarely does she do us that honour, and I think\nit is in consequence of the vexatious things she hears from it that she\nfeels no pleasure in talking to us. A pomegranate blossom, a very great\nfriend of mine, often repeated their conversation to me. The Rose-tree\nconceals from the Fairy what it is--the Fairy cannot discover it; all\none can make out is, that it was not always a rose-tree.\"\n\nShe had spoken thus far, when a pink, a ranunculus, and some other\nflowers entered, and after paying their compliments to the Lioness,\nthey announced to the Tube-rose that Cornue intended to visit them\na day earlier than usual; that they might expect her the following\nmorning, and that she proposed making a pompous sacrifice to the\nRose-tree; that they were ignorant of the cause of this grand ceremony,\nbut thought it denoted the approach of some great event. The flowers\nwondered among themselves what this great event could be, without\ncoming to any definite conclusion.\n\nThey then talked about the weather, a conversation in which they shone\ngreatly, and which would have amused Lionette had she been in another\nframe of mind, but she spoke little, and listened less. At sunset the\nflowers retired each to their home; and Lionette, after taking a very\nslight repast of herbs from the mossy ground, and drinking the water\nfrom the wonderful rivulet, went to sleep at the feet of her faithful\nfriend the Tube-rose. The first rays of the sun having touched her\neyelids, she awoke: the flowers were already on the move. Lionette\narose, and repaired to the Rose-tree. She laid herself down in one\nof the corners of its little temple, and saw all the flowers arrive,\nand place themselves artistically to do honour to the Fairy, who did\nnot keep them long waiting. The whole of the temple glowed with the\nbeautiful colours of these various flowers; some formed themselves\ninto arbours, others into garlands, crowns, girandoles, in short, into\na thousand and a thousand kinds of ornaments, so marvellously arranged\nthat the general effect was dazzling. The sweetness of their perfume\nwas exquisite; and that which drew Lionette from her reflections was,\nthat after this arrangement, and on notice of the Fairy's approach,\nthey commenced so melodious a concert that the most melancholy beings\nwould have forgotten their grief, and have yielded to the sweet\nenchantment in which this music wrapped the soul. The Tube-rose, above\nall, was perfection. It charmed Lionette completely. She listened with\ndelight to this wonderful melody, and admired the poetry of the hymn\nwhich they sang; when suddenly she saw the redoubtable Cornue enter,\nblazing with jewels, but more frightfully ugly than can be described.\nShe was seized with a horror at this sight which she could not account\nfor. She reproached herself for it. \"Is it possible,\" said she to\nherself, \"that I can be still affected by the weak prejudice of which\nmy sex is so susceptible? Ought we to decide upon the qualities of the\nmind by the beauty or ugliness of the countenance? What feelings must I\ninspire if they judge poor Lionette by her form? Judge thyself before\nthou judgest others, and conceal not from thyself that if ugliness\ninduces thee to take an aversion to any one, thou must thyself inspire\na terrible horror.\"\n\nWhile Lionette was constraining herself to vanquish the dreadful\nfeeling that the presence of the Fairy had possessed her with, the\nlatter, to the sound of joyful music which echoed through the temple\nof the Rose-tree, advanced towards the balustrade and saw the Lioness,\nwho, seated in the corner to which she had retired, crouched in the\nmost humble manner as the Fairy gazed on her. Cornue's countenance\nbrightened with intense joy at this sight. \"Oracle, whose words are\nalways those of truth,\" exclaimed she, \"you have promised me that I\nshould one day find that which I have sought for so earnestly, and\nwhich doubtless you have reserved as a recompense for the many honours\nI have paid to you. Come,\" said she to the fairies who followed her,\n\"chain this wild beast, and fasten it to my chariot, after which let\nus immolate our victims.\" Four fairies threw a chain about Lionette,\nwho allowed herself to be dragged out of the temple notwithstanding the\ngrief shown by the flowers, that looked as they do when Aurora sheds\nher gentle dew upon them, for they all loved Lionette; but their tears\ndid not in the least soften the inflexible heart of the jealous Cornue.\nThe Rose-tree shot from its stem a flame which consumed the offering\nof bees which the fairies had just placed upon a little golden altar\nthey had drawn towards it. Its roses became amaranth colour. Cornue\nwas quite alarmed at this change. \"What prodigy is this?\" cried she.\n\"Divinity of these realms, do you protect my rival, or is it the joy of\ndelivering her into my power that has produced this mysterious change?\"\nThe Rose-tree shuddered at these words, and with a strong and terrible\nvoice thus answered the Fairy:--\n\n    Immolate to my just wrath\n    The first fowl that shall cross thy path.\n    Mercy to it dare to show\n    None thyself shall ever know!\n\nThe Rose-tree after this closed its flowers and leaves, and by this\naction appeared to bid the Fairy depart. She left the temple much\ndiscontented, and remounted her chariot, to which they had fastened\nLionette, with three other lions who were very handsome. She took the\nreins that united these animals and drove slowly over the velvet lawn\nby the side of the rivulet, the gentle murmuring of which favoured\nher meditations, until one of the fairies, following in another\nchariot, exclaimed that she saw a fowl in the water, which appeared\nto be drowning. Cornue stopped her chariot, and ordered them to catch\nand bring to her the bird that so luckily came to reconcile her with\nthe oracular Rose-tree. The fairies who were the lightest clad threw\nthemselves into the stream, and caught the poor bird, which was already\ninsensible. They carried it to Cornue, who was not at all surprised\nat its beauty, for she instantly recognised, to her great dismay, the\nunfortunate King Coquerico. \"Oh, Heavens!\" exclaimed she to herself;\n\"is it thus, cruel oracle, thou wouldst have me understand thee?\" She\nheld the King up by his feet, and having made him eject the water\nthat he had swallowed, he reopened his eyes, already darkened by the\napproach of death, then quickly touching him with her wand, said to\nhim, \"Resume thy proper form, and save me thereby from the horror of\ntaking thy life, upon which mine depends.\" At these words the King,\nsafe and sound, appeared more brilliant than the sun, his royal mantle\non his shoulders, and his crown of brilliants gracefully encircling his\ntemples. What became of Lionette at this sight? Her lover stood before\nher--her lover a king, and more beautiful than the day! She would have\nbeen speechless with astonishment even had she not resolved beforehand\nthat she would not speak to the Fairy until she had discovered her\nmotive for ill-treating her so cruelly. She remained silent, therefore,\nbut her eyes were so affectionately fixed on the King, that if he had\nnot been pre-occupied by the adventure that had just occurred, he would\neasily have recognised his unhappy Princess.\n\n\"What more do you require of me, Madam?\" said he to Cornue. \"Is it to\nmake me feel my miseries more keenly that you have restored me to my\nform of which you so unjustly deprived me? or do you at last repent\nthat you have done me so much mischief?\" \"Ungrateful ever, and still\nmore ungrateful,\" replied the Fairy, presenting her hand for him to\nassist her to descend from her chariot. \"Come and justify yourself,\nand do not accuse me.\" So saying, she stepped with him upon the mossy\nbank of the rivulet, and leaving her chariot and her companions at\nsome distance, spoke thus to the King, whom she made to sit down\nbeside her:--\"I need scarcely tell you that I have loved you from your\ninfancy; the care that I have taken of you must convince you of it,\nif you still remember it, for I do not expect gratitude for such poor\nbenefits. I will only slightly touch upon what has hitherto passed,\nfor I experienced but cruel ingratitude, which my affection for you\ndisguised under the name of indifference, arising, perhaps, from my\nlack of beauty. I believed for some time that by kindness I should\novercome this coldness. 'Beauty,' I said, 'is but a poor possession--a\nsensible man is only caught at first by it. Unlimited power--a fairy\nwho condescends so far as to desire to please a mortal is always\nsufficiently beautiful.' I discovered but too late the abuse of my\nconfidence, and saw with horror that I had a rival. What did I then do\nto be revenged, but what every woman would have done? Far from availing\nmyself of my power, I only exercised my discretion. I took Lionette\naway from you, but I did not kill her--what excess of weakness!--for\nshe was at my mercy--and what a proof of my love do you not recognise\nin that weakness? Your insults and contemptuous coldness drove me to\ndespair. I deprived you of your form, and I left you. What greater\ncruelty could you show me than I had inflicted on myself? No, all your\nhatred did not torture me as much. In what misery did I pass my days\nafter that frightful separation! I accused myself of cruelty, I forgot\nall your injustice, and when, becoming more calm, I thought of it as\nit really had been, I reproached myself with having given you cause\nfor it by too much vivacity--in short, your image always present in\nmy mind, the thought of your anger constantly weighing on my heart,\nI could get no rest. Some of the fairies who attended on me in the\nOpal Palace advised me to consult the oracular Rose-tree respecting\nmy destiny. This Oracle, without any one knowing the reason, has\nestablished itself here, or at least has planted itself in the Sward\nof Eloquence (the name that is given to that which you behold here,\nfrom the rivulet which surrounds it, because it possesses the faculty\nof making everything speak that is watered by it). Persecuted by my\nenemies, I came at last to consult this new Oracle. I found at first\nsome relief to my troubles; I took great pleasure in embellishing its\nabode; by my art I caused all kinds of flowers to grow here; I raised\na little temple of verdure, and watering all the flowers from the\nRivulet of Eloquence, I enabled them to converse with the Rose-tree and\nentertain it. The information I gathered respecting my destiny made\nme grateful to the Oracle, and gave me confidence in its predictions.\nI came often to question it, and I endeavoured to discover by whom it\ncould possibly be inspired. I ascertained that it was not one of those\ndeities who take pleasure in manifesting themselves to mortals, as at\nDelphi. It was a man transformed into a rose-tree, and protected by a\npower unknown to me, and carefully kept a secret. I offered him all\nmy power as a reward for what he had promised me, but he constantly\ndeclined it. At last, having predicted an event which has occurred to\nme this very day, and the commencement of my happiness, he commanded\nme to sacrifice to him the first fowl that I should see. Judge if all\nthe happiness I could expect from its promises is to be weighed in the\nbalance against your life--for that is what he demands of me. Could I\nfeel, could I know, a comfort, deprived of it? Let the Oracle be angry\nwith me, overwhelm me if it will with the most dreadful calamities, I\nwill not avoid them by the sacrifice of your life. Continue, if you\ndare, to treat me inhumanly, cruelly--I will submit to it, provided I\ncan still behold you; for I have resolved to suffer everything your\nhatred can inflict upon me, sooner than consent to immolate you to the\nstrange caprice of the Rose-tree.\"\n\nCornue ceased speaking, and the King, having expressed his\nacknowledgments, replied,--\"What can I do for you, Madam? My heart\nis mine no longer; I have no wish to deceive you; not only is such\nperfidy incompatible with my nature, but you too well know what I think\nfor me to attempt to impose on your credulity, and I owe you too much\ngratitude for saving my life willingly to deceive you, were it in my\npower. But why have you preserved one who never can make you happy? Far\nbetter would it have been for you to have obeyed your Oracle. Certain\nthat you will always oppose my happiness, I should have received my\ndeath at your hands with pleasure, since I can never entertain for you\na warmer feeling than gratitude. You would have relieved me from the\nshame of appearing thankless to you, and from being obliged to drag out\nan existence far from the object of my eternal affection.\"\n\nThe King was silent, and the Fairy greatly agitated; neither spoke for\nsome time. \"What did this deceitful Oracle promise you?\" at length\ninquired the King. \"If you can be rendered happy by ending my life, why\ndefer the sacrifice? The generosity you have shown in preserving it,\nexcites in my heart a feeling of emulation. Conduct me to the temple,\nit will not be you that will immolate me, at least; Love will acquit\nyou, for Love will dispose of my life, as it is he who prevents my\nmaking you the mistress of it.\" \"Talk no more of sacrifice,\" said the\nFairy, rising; \"your life is too precious for me not to struggle to\npreserve it, at the risk of all that may happen. Come to my palace, and\nwe will see to-morrow what can be done.\" She then moved towards her\nchariot, which she stepped into with the Prince, and the Lions went at\nsuch speed that they arrived almost immediately at the Opal Palace.\n\nHere it was that Lionette abandoned herself to the bitterest grief when\nshe saw the Fairy descend from her chariot with the Prince, desiring\nthat her lions might be put into a grotto where a thousand other wild\nanimals were lodged that she drove in harness. \"Oh, Heavens!\" she\ncried, \"to what am I reduced?\" She permitted herself to be led away to\nthe grotto, and retiring into a dark corner, stretched herself upon\na little straw, and passed the night groaning at her fate. Some days\nelapsed without any one disturbing her sad repose; at the end of which\ntime two young fairies came to take four lions, some tigers, and two\nbears to be hunted for the entertainment of the Fairy and in honour of\nthe King.\n\nAs the Princess was ignorant of the purpose for which these animals\nwere selected, she did not speak to the Fairies. But what a situation\nfor her! Her lover, whom she could not doubt was in the Palace, and who\ncould not know her--the severity of the Fairy--the horror of passing\nher days in this strange place--all gave her a disgust to life, which\nwould not yield to the love she possessed for the King, though it had\nbeen redoubled by the sight of him. \"Ah, why should I continue to love\nhim?\" she exclaimed. \"Doubtless he no longer loves me. And to render my\npunishment the greater, I feel he is more lovely than ever. Let me die;\nand may he never know the extent of the misery he has caused me. Bereft\nof his love--bereft of him--why should I regret to die?\"\n\nShe could not suppose him to be enamoured of Cornue; she tried in vain\nto think why he was at the Opal Palace; she lamented the timidity\nthat induced her to fly from Tigreline at the crowing of the cock. In\nrecalling to her mind the few circumstances she was cognizant of, she\nfelt convinced that the cock that flew in at the window was certainly\nthe same which was brought to Cornue, and re-transformed upon the\nSward of Eloquence. \"How contrary is my destiny!\" said she. \"My heart\npants for an object which certainly compels me to fly from it. Let me\nhasten to put an end to this torment. Can the approach of death be a\ngreater punishment? Coquerico, ungrateful Coquerico, has forgotten me.\nWhy should I any longer doubt it? Let me go and expire at the foot of\nthe Rose-tree, and for ever fly from a place that only aggravates and\nredoubles my grief.\"\n\nFortunately the fairies had not shut the door of the grotto. The\nwretched Princess stole out, and found herself in Cornue's forest. She\nheard a great noise of horns and dogs; she entered a thick part of the\nwood which appeared likely to conceal her. Anxious to let the chase\ngo by, she had thrust herself under some low branches, when she heard\na dear voice she could not be mistaken in. This voice spoke to one\nwhom she soon knew to be the Fairy Cornue. \"Yes, Madam, I avow it. I\nhave an invincible repugnance to hunt lions ever since the unfortunate\nLionette has been changed into one. I know not what has become of her.\nYou wish me to remain in ignorance about her; you object to my taking\nany means by which I might obtain knowledge of her present position.\nYou wish to kill me. Ah, why, then, do you hesitate, when your Oracle\ndemands my death? Let me go to consult it, or with my sword will I rid\nmyself of a life which is rendered insupportable by your tyranny.\" \"How\ncan you imagine,\" replied the Fairy, \"that I should allow you to seek\nthis Oracle who demands your death? For it is not that he desires a\ncock as a sacrifice more than any other bird--it is you yourself that\nthe barbarous Oracle would have immolated; and do you think I will\nconsent to that? I love you, and you hate me--that is all my offence\nin your eyes. And if I were to restore Lionette to you, you would soon\nforget even the trifling gratitude you might profess to entertain for\nme.\" \"I,\" exclaimed the King, \"forget it? Never! I forget that I was\nindebted to you for the happiness of my existence? Do not imagine it.\nRestore her to her natural shape, and I swear to you I will agree to\neverything that depends upon myself. You will command my obedience,\nand my friendship will be unbounded. In fact, if I cannot give you my\nheart, at least there will be so little apparent difference, that you\nyourself will scarcely perceive it.\" \"Enough,\" said the Fairy; \"I trust\nto your oath, and I will yield to your impatience. To-morrow we will\nproceed to the temple of the Rose-tree. I will expose myself to its\nanger. I will try to appease it, and then we shall see if your word is\ninviolable.\"\n\nThe King and the Fairy passed on, and the Princess, delighted to find\nher lover as faithful as she had believed him inconstant, turned her\nfootsteps towards the temple of the Rose-tree, and arrived there late\nat night.\n\nAll the flowers were asleep. She did not disturb any of them; she went\nand lay at the feet of the Tube-rose--she did not sleep. The beauty\nof the night filled her soul, already prepared to receive delightful\nimpressions, with the purest joy, unmingled with a shade of sorrow.\nThe amiable Coquerico, faithful and loving, appeared in her idea so\nworthy of being loved, that she did not regret all she had suffered\nfor him. She never thought about his being a King; she disdained every\nadvantage that was the mere consequence of chance. He was worthy of\nher affection--that was all she considered. Cornue's reproaches had\nrevealed her jealousy. Lionette in an instant therefore understood why\nthe Fairy had so ill-treated her; and as the happiest love is subject\nto reverses, she distressed herself at what the King would have to\nsuffer if he resisted the Fairy's passion. She immediately determined\nto abandon her lover to her rival in order to save his life, which\nthe Oracle had told her he would lose if she opposed his choice. Some\nmournful reflections upon this situation succeeded to those that had\nso pleasantly occupied her. She determined to seek the Oracle without\ndelay. She arose very quietly, and entered the temple as the day broke.\n\nKing Coquerico was not in a better situation. The horror with which\nCornue had inspired him by her new barbarity in wishing his mistress\nto perish by his hand under the pretence of affording him the\nentertainment of a lion hunt, was unconquerable: his patience was\nexhausted, and he only feigned to agree to her wishes in order to gain\ntime to be revenged, by getting the necklace out of her possession.\n\nThe Fairy had luckily not noticed the little bottle under his wing the\nday she restored him to his form; he therefore still possessed it, and\ntrusted it would be of great use to him. He retired early that night,\nunder pretence of being fatigued, and the Fairy begged he would wear\nthe ornaments that she had ordered to be put into his room, that he\nmight make a grander figure in the eyes of the Rose-tree. He was no\nsooner in his own apartment than the recollection of what Cornue had\nsaid, and of what he had promised, threw him into deep distress, as he\nforesaw that if he could not anticipate the artful Fairy's intention,\nhe should only obtain from this jealous enemy the pleasure of once more\nseeing Lionette, in return for which Cornue would undoubtedly insist\nupon his marrying her.\n\nThis cruel thought made him more eager for revenge, and that feeling\nwas increased by his observing a large basket made of pearls and\ngarnets in filigree work, which stood on a table beside him. He made\nno doubt it contained the presents she had requested him to wear. He\nraised the white taffeta embroidered in gold which covered this elegant\nbasket, and perceived with astonishment, mingled with rage, the royal\nrobes that are worn at the marriage of the Kings of the Fortunate\nIslands. As they were the work of the Fairies, it is impossible to\ndescribe their magnificence.\n\nA moment afterwards, recollecting that he should appear thus attired\nbefore the Princess, he could not divest himself of the idea that\noccurred to him, that perhaps such magnificence might make an\nimpression on her. However, believing the Fairy to be asleep, he\nresolved to put his plan in execution without delay, and throwing all\nthe ornaments back into the basket, he ascended a private staircase\nwhich led to Cornue's bed-chamber. He arrived without any obstacle\nat her bed-side; the curtains were open, and held back by Cupids of\nmother-of-pearl; these also supported crystal chandeliers filled with\nwax lights, to illumine the room. When she could not sleep the Cupids\nsang, or read to her the news of the day, Gazettes, or fresh stories\nthat were written about the Fairies. On that night they must certainly\nhave been reading to her as long a story as this, for she snored\nterribly. She could not have foreseen the King's unseasonable visit,\nfor no one could look so ugly in bed as she did. She had neither rouge\nnor patches; and her livid and unhealthy-looking skin, gave her more\nthe appearance of a corpse than of a living and amorous Fairy. Her horn\nassisted in making her more hideous. She had the fatal necklace round\nher neck, which was partly uncovered. The King was not at all enchanted\nby the sight of her. His desire to free himself from so hideous an\nobject made him hastily draw forth his little bottle, in order to fling\nsome drops of its contents over the Fairy, when all the Cupids suddenly\nbegan to cry, \"Who goes there? who goes there?\" The Fairy opened her\neyes, and the King remained more surprised and more distressed than\nit is possible to say. \"What do you here, Prince?\" said she, sitting\nupright; \"what has brought you into my room without having sent me word\nof your intention?\" She would have asked him a thousand other questions\nif she had had the time, for the King, more alarmed at her ugliness\nthan at the menacing tone she gave to her words, allowed her to talk,\nand did not answer her. \"What would you?\" she said again. \"Explain your\nobject.\"\n\n\"I am very sorry, Madam, to have disturbed your rest,\" at length said\nthe King; \"but not knowing your projects, before I definitively pledge\nmy word to you I wish to know what you propose to exact from me.\"\n\"Would there not have been time to-morrow,\" said the Fairy, \"to have\nasked me this mighty question, and was it necessary to awake me for so\nsilly a purpose? Go to your rest, my Lord, and to-morrow we shall be in\na condition for you to propose, and for me to resolve.\" The King, truly\nseeing no other way of getting out of this embarrassment, was very well\ndisposed to return to his room, when the Fairy called him back. \"Come\nhere,\" cried she, \"where are you going? Ought you not to apologize for\nyour imprudence, or do you think you have not committed any?\" The King,\nannoyed by this fresh obstacle, which prevented him from retiring,\nsaid, \"Ah, Madam, do not make me commit a greater fault, in any longer\ndisturbing your rest; it ought to be precious to me, and the respect\nI owe you----\" \"No, no,\" replied the Fairy, \"approach; I do not wish\nto sleep any more, and I will absolutely know what brought you here;\ndo not fear to offend me, but dread to conceal your feelings from me.\nI wish for a candid avowal, and,\" continued she, looking at him most\naffectionately, \"I expect you will entertain me as a punishment for\nawaking me.\"\n\nThe King, at this disagreeable proposition, thought he should lose all\npatience, but being in the power of this terrible person he suppressed\nhis first movement, and seating himself, out of respect, some distance\nfrom the Fairy's bed, said, \"Since you wish it, Madam, I will obey\nyou. I came, not thinking you were asleep, to ask you to restore the\nPrincess to her natural form immediately, and to declare, without that,\nI cannot follow you to the temple of the rose-tree.\" \"Truly,\" replied\nthe Fairy, much annoyed at this commencement, \"this is a beautiful\nsubject to disturb every one about; could not that have been deferred\ntill to-morrow?\" \"No, Madam,\" replied the King, \"and I am very sorry\nI did not urge it yesterday, without being under the necessity of\nwaiting another day.\" \"Well,\" said the Fairy, \"what will you do for\nme in return, and what have I to expect from your gratitude?\" \"I have\ntold you, Madam, the strongest friendship, and all that an affectionate\nheart could further give----\" \"Friendship,\" replied the Fairy; \"no,\nno, King Coquerico, it is not at such a price that I dispense my\nfavours--it must be of more value than that. Shall I tell you what\nit is? It is not worth while to wait till to-morrow to inform you. I\ncannot ask you for your love, I am convinced of that; you are incapable\nof feeling it for me; you have made me sufficiently understand that;\nbut I will forgive you upon condition that to-morrow you will solemnly\ngive me your faith.\"\n\nThe King, prepared as he had been for this event by Tigreline,\ncould not quietly listen to her discourse, and find himself so near\nrenouncing for ever a Princess whom he loved, without feeling it most\ncruelly. \"If my heart were free,\" he replied, in a tone of voice\nchanged by the excessive effort he made to suppress his fury, \"I could\noffer you the one or the other; but, Madam, I have disposed of my heart\nbeyond my own control, and I will not offer you my hand, the possession\nof which would make you miserable, for at every instant I should make\nyou feel, in spite of myself, that, my heart being separated from it,\nI was not worthy the honour you conferred on me. The gratitude I owe\nyou, therefore, obliges me absolutely to refuse you, at the peril\nof my life.\" \"We shall see that to-morrow,\" replied Cornue. \"Go and\nstrengthen or change your noble resolutions; but remember that if you\nresist mine, it will not be your life that will answer to me for it. I\nshall know how to find, in spite of you, the sensitive place of a heart\nyou assure me is so indifferent.\"\n\nThe King, maddened by rage and grief, departed, and returned to his own\napartments, where he abandoned himself to the deepest despair. Twenty\ntimes he was about to plunge his sword in his heart, and sacrifice his\nlife to the Princess; but thinking he might perhaps revenge her, or at\nleast save her from the fury of the Fairy, he abandoned that frightful\nidea, and resolved upon going to the temple of the Rose-tree.\n\nAs soon as the morning appeared, the palace of the Fairy resounded\nwith music and nuptial hymns; she sent to know if the King was ready,\ngiving an order that they should attend to him as her husband. A\npompous chariot was in the palace court. All the fairies from far and\nnear were summoned to this ceremony; they arrived from every quarter.\nTigreline only announced that she should be at the temple. At length\nthe King appeared; his pale and thin face indicated that he was the\nvictim of the sacrifice, rather than the person to whom it was to be\noffered. With all that he was as lovely as the day.\n\nCornue was attired as a Queen; all the skill in the world had been\nemployed about her robes. She seated herself with the King in her\nchariot, and all the fairies followed according to their rank, riding\nupon eagles, dragons, tigers, and leopards. A dozen beautiful young\nfairies of the Court of Cornue, led in couples a dozen lions, upon\nwhich, during all the journey, the King had his eyes fixed, seeking to\ndiscover if the unfortunate Lionette were not amongst them. They set\nout amidst a flourish of drums and trumpets, and they arrived at the\nSward of Eloquence: the flowers were already on the boundaries, and\nformed two ranks six feet high, between which the brilliant procession\npassed, amidst loud acclamations and joyous songs.\n\nThe temple was crowded. The most beautiful flowers had formed two\nthrones of exquisite taste, and the _coup-d'\u0153il_ was enchanting,\nso well was everything arranged. The unfortunate Lionette was already\nin the temple, and the pleasure of seeing Tigreline there, whom she\nremembered directly, had relieved in a slight degree the deep grief she\nwas in at being compelled to witness the happiness of her cruel rival.\n\"I shall die, Madam,\" said she to the Fairy, \"but at any rate let the\nKing know, after my decease, that my affection has equalled his own,\nand that I pardon him a fault which fate has made him commit. I do not\ncondemn him for his inconstancy.\" She wept so bitterly in finishing\nthese words, and she was so overcome by the violence of her grief, that\nshe did not see the King and the Fairy enter. Cornue first approached\nthe Rose-tree. \"I come,\" said she, \"to redeem my word. Divinity of this\nplace, you demanded of me the sacrifice of a fowl. I have too well\nunderstood your oracle; behold what you required, and I think I shall\ninterpret your wishes by demanding of him, at the foot of your altar,\nthe hand he is so reluctant to bestow on me; a sacrifice which is to\nhim greater than that of his life.\" The Rose-tree drooped its leaves\nand blossoms, as if in approval of the words of the Fairy. Cornue then\nturning to the King, who had remained a few steps behind her, said,\n\"Approach, my Lord, and fulfil the decree of fate.\" He was at this\nmoment much more occupied with what he saw than with what was said to\nhim; he had perceived Tigreline, and he no longer doubted that the\nlioness at her side was his divine Princess; he looked at her tenderly\nand sorrowfully, not daring, however, to approach her, for fear of\ndispleasing Tigreline, who had made him a severe sign to prevent him.\n\nCornue, surprised at his silence, turned towards him, and saw him in\nthis pleasant occupation; then placing on the altar the crown which\nshe held in her hand, in order that the King might put it on her head,\nshe approached him. \"What are you about,\" said she; \"is this a time\nfor dreaming?\" \"I delay my reply, Madam,\" said the King, without much\nemotion, \"till you shall render to the Princess of the Golden Island\nthe form which you have so unjustly deprived her of; afterwards I will\ndo what gratitude demands of me, and I will not deceive you.\" Cornue\nperceiving that it was not time to recede, especially as she saw\nTigreline present, her superior in power, and that the day which she\nhad chosen for this ceremony was precisely that on which the fairies\nare subject to death, was very cautious not to let the King know this,\nfor fear that he should take advantage of those four-and-twenty hours\nto revenge himself for the cruelty which she had exercised on him and\nthe Princess; yet, nevertheless, she was not willing to delay the\nfulfilment of her happiness; knowing, therefore, that it was impossible\nto deceive the King any longer, she turned to Tigreline, who led the\nlioness to the altar. \"My Sister,\" said Cornue, taking off the necklace\nand presenting it to Tigreline, \"I restore the Princess to you, and you\ncan use your power to make her resume her proper form, but spare her\nthe grief of seeing me crowned by the hand of her lover, and depart\nwith her, as she can never be his.\"\n\nTigreline lost not a moment: in lieu of replying to Cornue, the good\nFairy touched the lioness with her wand, and the Princess stood before\nthem more beautiful and more amiable than ever. She was by the care\nof the Fairy clothed magnificently and in the finest taste: she had a\ndress of cloth of silver, covered with garlands of everlasting flower\nof _gris-de-lin_[46] colour; her beautiful light hair, adorned with\ndiamonds and the same sort of flowers as those on her dress, fell in\ncurls on her shoulders, and made her appear more beautiful than the\nday. The King was transported: he advanced towards her, and falling on\none knee--\"Will you permit, beautiful Princess,\" said he, \"that the\nfaith which I have plighted you should be taken from you, and that the\nunjust Fairy, who has made us so unhappy, should quietly enjoy a crown\nwhich should be yours?\"\n\nThe Princess Lionette, during the time that her lover was speaking,\nkept her eyes tenderly fixed upon him, and by the tears which gently\nrolled down her cheeks let him see the effort which she made in giving\nhim up. \"I cannot,\" said she at length, \"oppose fate; yes, my dear\nPrince, you must submit; I release you from your vows, live happy\nwithout me, if it be possible for you to do so; and as I must of\nnecessity lose you, I quit this life without a regret, and am happy in\ndying at having been able to tell you once more without its being a\ncrime that I love you.\" \"Yes, you shall die,\" cried the furious Cornue;\n\"I have borne enough insults, and that is another happiness which you\nhave not counted amongst those you boast of at this fatal moment!\"\nThe King at these words rose from the feet of the Princess, who did\nnot seem alarmed even at seeing her rival advance towards her with a\nponiard in her hand. He arrested the Fairy with one hand, and with the\nother drew his sword. \"It is I who will perish,\" cried he, \"and you\ncannot attempt the life of my Princess, which mine will answer for.\"\n\"Oh, heavens!\" cried the Fairy and Lionette at the same time. \"Hold!\"\nTigreline then advanced towards Cornue; she had not spoken till that\nmoment; she had allowed everything to proceed, and those to speak who\nwere most anxious to do so. She raised her wand, and touching Cornue,\n\"Receive,\" said she, \"to-day, the reward of your misdeeds, and witness\nin your turn the happiness of these two lovers.\" At the words Cornue\nremained motionless, but her eyes shone with such terrible fury, that,\nnot being able to find expression for it, her horn seemed on fire, and\nshe foamed with rage. \"And you, wise Rose-tree,\" continued Tigreline,\n\"resume your form, and enjoy the pleasure of embracing your amiable\ndaughter.\" She had not finished these words when the Rose-tree, bending\nitself a little, appeared in its true form.\n\nIt was that of a man about fifty years of age, nobly made, and\nmagnificently attired; he had a long regal mantle, and a crown of\ngold, set with precious stones, on his head. Lionette resembled him so\nextremely that no one in the whole assembly could doubt she was his\ndaughter. That beautiful Princess threw herself into his arms with so\nmuch natural delight, that all the company were affected by it. The\ngood King received her with transports of joy, which would have been\nmore prolonged if he had not perceived at his feet the young King of\nthe Fortunate Islands, who embraced his knees. He quitted his daughter\na moment to raise the handsome Coquerico. \"I give you my daughter,\"\nsaid he to him, embracing him. \"Receive her, my Lord, and live as\nhappily as I have seen you miserable. I add my crown to this gift, and\nthough I do not expect it will increase your happiness, judging by the\nvexations it has brought on me, still, such as it is, I give it to my\ndaughter to present to you.\"\n\nAt this moment the King would have taken off his crown, but the young\nKing cried, \"No, sire, you shall not cease to reign: the charming, the\ntender Lionette fulfils all my wishes, and my crown is at her feet.\nPermit us to live with you, and let nothing separate us any more.\"\nTigreline applauded this mark of generosity in King Coquerico; and\ntaking Lionette by the hand, she presented her to him. He received\nher with transports of love more easily imagined than described. Then\nraising his crown, and placing one knee on the ground, he presented it\nto Lionette, who accepted it as she plighted her troth to him.\n\nThe Temple resounded with the nuptial hymn. It was only interrupted\nby Cornue, who uttered a piercing cry, and expired, it being her day\nof doom. Her death caused no extraordinary sensation. The young King\nand the Princess alone appeared affected by the result of her despair.\nTigreline had her carried away, and the ceremony was concluded. King\nCoquerico then turning towards the King, his father-in-law, asked him\nif he wished to witness the coronation of the Queen Lionette, or if\nhe would prefer waiting where he was for some days. \"And I,\" said\nLionette, \"I would entreat a favour of the kind Tigreline, and of my\ndear husband, if I dare speak at this moment.\" \"My dear Princess,\"\nreplied the King, tenderly, \"what do you fear?\" \"I would, then,\" said\nthe Princess, \"that, disembarrassed of the cares of government, we\ncould live here always, and that, content with my happiness, I might be\noccupied with nothing but the pleasure of enjoying it. It is here that\nI have regained what is to me most valuable. What signifies to me the\nrest of the world if I live with these two persons; and if you, Madam,\"\nadded she, addressing the Fairy, \"deign to come and see me, and restore\nto me my two unfortunate guardians?\" \"I consent,\" said the two Kings\nat once. \"Yes, my daughter,\" said the Fairy in her turn, \"I approve of\nthese noble sentiments, and you shall live here as a Queen, but without\nfeeling the inconvenience of it. You shall both also enjoy the gift of\nfairydom. I bestow it on you.\"\n\nThen touching the hedges that formed the walls of the temple, the whole\nstructure was changed into a palace of emeralds so brilliant and so\nmagnificent, that never was anything seen to equal it. The flowers\nbecame living and speaking persons, having as the sole mark of their\ntransformation a flower of their name on the head. The greensward\nbecame a magnificent garden: on one side appeared a vast forest, at\none end of which the Fairy caused to be built a little palace of\nrose-colour and white marble; and at the other, one of rock crystal,\nin which she had the kindness to place the fine model of the universe,\nwhich had been the delight of the King in his youth. The Princess was\nenchanted. \"It is for me,\" said the King, \"an inestimable gift--it will\nrecall to me without ceasing the pleasure I have enjoyed in exploring\nit in search of my dear Princess.\" \"And I,\" said she, \"will hold it\ndear, because it has taught you that I was occupied with your memory.\"\n\nThe Fairy was charmed to see them so happy, with a degree of love so\nlittle known in our time or even in that at which they lived. \"Love\neach other always thus, my children,\" said she, embracing them; \"I\ncan give you nothing preferable to that blessing; it is the only\nreal happiness.\" She then made them observe that each palace had its\nseparate gardens, its cascades, fountains, and charming flower-beds.\nOn the other side of the garden was a large and flowing river, upon\nwhich were a thousand superb gondolas, silver and _gris-de-lin_, which\nwound round towards a castle built entirely of flowers, the marvellous\nvariety of which had an admirable effect, and crowning the summit of\na mountain with terraces laid out as gardens, descending to the brink\nof the river, and which served as a country house to the Palace of\nEmeralds. \"I give you all this,\" said Tigreline, embracing Lionette;\n\"live here, my children, millions of years; your subjects will love\nyou, and never betray you. If you wish for more, a touch of this wand,\"\nsaid she, giving hers to Lionette, \"will change all the flowers into\nspeaking and rational beings, and they will become flowers again at\nyour will.\"\n\nThe King and Lionette threw themselves at the feet of the Fairy, and\nthanked her heartily. She raised them, and again embraced them. \"Wave\nyour wand,\" said she to the Princess, \"that your guardians may have\nthe pleasure of being recalled by yourself.\" The beautiful Lionette\nquickly made this first trial of her power; the good people appeared\nimmediately. She ran to embrace them, but they feared to receive her\ncaresses; the beautiful Queen, however, pressed them to her heart\nso affectionately that they at length returned her embraces with a\ntenderness which drew tears from all beholders. The Queen seeing them\nso aged and decrepit, turned her beautiful eyes, full of tears, on\nthe Fairy, who comprehended what she suffered. \"I like to see so much\nsensibility, madam,\" said Tigreline; \"use your power, you cannot employ\nit better than in the way you at present desire.\" She had not finished\nthese words, when the old man and his wife appeared to be,--he a man\nof twenty years, and the old woman a girl of eighteen. They threw\nthemselves at the feet of the Fairy, and kissed the hands of the Queen,\nwho, delighted to see them so young and amiable, embraced the Fairy to\nthank her for this great favour.\n\nThe good King then addressed his daughter, who turned her eyes\naffectionately on him, \"Do not confer on me the same gift, my dear\ndaughter; I do not wish to possess second youth. I see you happy, that\nis the only thing which would affect me; I shall never be sensible of\ngreater joy; leave to the gods the disposal of my days.\" \"It is for\nme,\" said the Fairy, \"to render them happy; you shall live, Sire,\ntill you are sufficiently tired of life to wish to lose it. Adieu; my\naffairs compel me now to leave you, but I shall speedily see you again.\"\n\nThe Queen conducted the Fairy to her car, the two Kings handed her into\nit, after which they returned to the Palace, where, charmed with each\nother's society, they passed their golden days, more happy than they\nhad ever been miserable. They lived millions of years, and the King\nand Queen presented the world with fairies and beneficent genii, who\nare at this moment actually occupied in promoting the happiness of the\nuniverse.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[41] See note, page 360.\n\n[42] The \"Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise,\" for which Cardinal Richelieu\nobtained letters patent, January, 1635. The number of members was fixed\nat forty, and they were called \"_les immortels_.\"\n\n[43] This opera, founded on the well-known episode in Tasso's\n_Gerusaleme Liberata_, and produced at Paris in 1686, is considered the\n_chef-d'\u0153uvre_ of Quinault.\n\n[44] The necklace must also have preserved the Queen from the\ntigers, or (according to the Author, page 420) one with so wicked an\nobject for her visit must have fallen their prey.\n\n[45] The crowing of a cock was supposed by the ancients to\nterrify the lion exceedingly. This idea is alluded to in Mademoiselle\nD'Aulnoy's story--\"The Pigeon and the Dove.\"\n\n[46] _Gris-de-lin_, Englished into Gridelin, was an\nexceedingly fashionable colour, both in France and England, at this\nperiod. It is variously described, but appears to have been a reddish\ngrey--\"gris tirant sur le rouge\"--not unlike lilac.\n\n\n\n\nMADAME DE BEAUMONT.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCE D\u00c9SIR\n\nand\n\nTHE PRINCESS MIGNONE.\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a King who passionately loved a Princess,\nbut she could not be married because she was enchanted. He went in\nsearch of a Fairy to learn what he should do to be loved by this\nPrincess. The Fairy said to him, \"You know that the Princess has a\nlarge cat, of which she is very fond. She is destined to marry the man\nwho shall be sufficiently adroit to tread on the tail of her cat.\" The\nKing said to himself, \"That will not be very difficult.\" So he quitted\nthe Fairy, determined to crush the tail of the cat rather than fail to\ntread on it. He ran to the palace of his mistress, where Minon came\ntowards him, putting up his back, as he was accustomed to do; the King\nraised his foot, but when he thought he was certain to set it on the\ncat's tail, Minon turned round so quickly that his Majesty trod on\nnothing but the floor. He tried for eight days to step on this fatal\ntail, but it appeared to be full of quicksilver, so continually was it\nin motion. At length the King had the good fortune to surprise Minon\nwhilst he was sleeping, and stamped upon his tail with all his force.\nMinon awoke, squalling horribly. Then suddenly he took the form of a\ngreat man, and regarding the Prince with eyes full of anger, he said\nto him, \"Thou shalt wed the Princess, because thou hast destroyed the\nenchantment which prevented thee from doing so, but I will be avenged.\nThou shalt have a son who shall be always unhappy until the moment\nwhen he shall discover that he has too long a nose, and if thou darest\nto divulge the threat I have uttered, thou shalt die immediately.\"\nAlthough the King was very frightened at the sight of this great man,\nwho was an enchanter, he could not help laughing at this threat. \"If\nmy son has too long a nose,\" said he to himself, \"unless he be either\nblind or without arms, he can always see it or feel it.\"\n\nThe Enchanter having disappeared, the King sought the Princess, who\nconsented to marry him; but his happiness was of brief duration, for he\ndied at the end of eight months. A month afterwards the Queen brought\ninto the world a little prince, whom they named D\u00e9sir. He had large\nblue eyes, the most beautiful in the world, and a pretty little mouth,\nbut his nose was so big that it covered half his face. The Queen was\ninconsolable when she saw this great nose; but the ladies who were\nwith her told her that the nose was not so large as it appeared to\nher: that it was a Roman nose, and that she might learn from history\nthat all heroes had large noses. The Queen, who passionately loved her\nson, was charmed at this discourse, and from constantly looking at\nD\u00e9sir his nose did not appear so large to her as at first. The Prince\nwas brought up with care, and as soon as he could speak they told all\nsorts of shocking stories before him about people with short noses.\nThey allowed no one to come near him but those whose noses in some\ndegree resembled his own, and the courtiers, to pay their court to the\nQueen and her son, pulled the noses of their little children several\ntimes in the day to make them longer; but it was no use pulling, for\nthey appeared snub-nosed by the side of Prince D\u00e9sir. As soon as he\ncould understand it they taught him history, and when they spoke of\nany great prince or beautiful princess they always said they had long\nnoses. All his apartments were full of portraits of persons with large\nnoses, and D\u00e9sir became so accustomed to regard the length of the nose\nas a beauty, that he would not for a crown have had his in the least\ndiminished.\n\nWhen he was twenty years of age, and they thought of marrying him,\nthey presented him with the portraits of several princesses. He was\nenchanted with that of Mignone. She was the daughter of a great\nKing, and heiress to several kingdoms; but D\u00e9sir thought nothing of\nthat, so much was he engrossed by her beauty. This Princess, whom he\nfound so charming, had, however, a little turned-up nose, which had\nthe prettiest effect in the world on her face, but which threw the\ncourtiers into the utmost embarrassment. They had acquired the habit of\nridiculing little noses, and they could not restrain a smile at that of\nthe Princess, but D\u00e9sir would allow no raillery on this subject, and\nhe banished from his court two courtiers who had dared to disparage\nthe nose of Mignone. The others, profiting by this example, corrected\nthemselves, and there was one who said to the Prince, that in truth a\nman could not be handsome without a large nose, but that female beauty\nwas altogether different, and that a scholar who spoke Greek had told\nhim that he had read, in an old Greek manuscript, that the beautiful\nCleopatra had the tip of her nose turned up.\n\nThe Prince made a magnificent present to the person who told him\nthis good news, and he sent ambassadors to demand Mignone's hand in\nmarriage. They granted his request, and he went more than three leagues\nto meet her, so anxious was he to behold her; but when he advanced to\nkiss her hand, the Enchanter descended, carried off the Princess before\nhis face, and left him inconsolable. D\u00e9sir resolved not to return to\nhis kingdom till he had recovered Mignone. He would not allow any of\nhis courtiers to follow him, and being mounted on his good horse he put\nthe bridle on his neck and let him take his own road.\n\nThe horse entered a large plain, over which he travelled all day\nwithout seeing a single house. The master and the horse were both dying\nof hunger, when at length in the evening the Prince saw a cavern,\nin which was a light. He entered, and perceived a little woman,\nwho appeared to be more than an hundred years old. She put on her\nspectacles to look at the Prince, but she was a long time adjusting\nthem, because her nose was too short. The Prince and the Fairy (for\nshe was one) each burst out laughing at seeing the other, and cried\nout both at once, \"Ah, what a droll nose!\" \"Not so droll as yours,\"\nsaid D\u00e9sir to the Fairy; \"but, Madam, let us leave our noses as they\nare, and be so good as to give me something to eat, for I am dying of\nhunger, and so is my poor horse.\" \"With all my heart,\" said the Fairy;\n\"although your nose is so ridiculous, you are no less the son of my\nbest friend. I loved the King your father like my own brother; he had\na very handsome nose, that Prince!\" \"And what is wanting in mine?\"\nsaid D\u00e9sir. \"Oh, there is nothing wanting,\" replied the Fairy; \"on the\ncontrary, there is but too much of it; but never mind, one may be a\nvery good man, even with too long a nose. I have told you that I was\nthe friend of your father; he came to see me very often in those days;\nand _\u00e0 propos_ of those days, let me tell you I was then very pretty,\nand he used to say so. I must tell you a conversation we had together\nthe last time that he saw me.\"\n\n\"Oh, Madam,\" said D\u00e9sir, \"I shall listen to you with much pleasure\nwhen I have supped; think, I pray you, that I have not eaten all day.\"\n\"Poor boy,\" said the Fairy, \"he is right: I forgot all about that; I\nwill give you your supper directly, and whilst you eat I will tell you\nmy history in few words, for I am not fond of long stories. Too long a\ntongue is still more insupportable than a long nose, and I remember,\nwhen I was young, that I was admired because I was not a great talker;\nthey told the Queen my mother this, for notwithstanding what you now\nsee me, I am the daughter of a great King. My father----\" \"Your father\nate when he was hungry,\" said the Prince, interrupting her. \"Yes,\nwithout doubt,\" replied the Fairy, \"and you shall sup also, presently.\nI wanted only to tell you that my father----\" \"And I will listen to\nnothing till I have eaten,\" said the Prince, who began to be in a\npassion. He calmed down, however, for he had need of the Fairy, and he\nsaid to her, \"I know that the pleasure I should have in listening to\nyou would make me forget my hunger, but my horse, who will not hear\nyou, has need of food.\"\n\nThe Fairy bridled up at this compliment. \"You shall not wait any\nlonger,\" said she, calling her domestics; \"you are very polite, and\nnotwithstanding the enormous size of your nose, you are very good\nlooking.\" \"Plague take the old woman with my nose,\" said the Prince\nto himself; \"one would imagine that my mother had stolen from her the\nquantity of which her own nose is deficient. If I did not so much\nwant something to eat, I would leave this chatterbox, who thinks she\ntalks so little. One must be a great fool not to know his own defects:\nthis comes of being born a Princess; flatterers have spoiled her, and\nhave persuaded her that she is a little talker.\" Whilst the Prince\nwas thus thinking, the servants laid the table, and he could not but\nwonder at the Fairy, who put a thousand questions to them merely for\nthe pleasure of talking; he admired, above all, a waiting-woman, who,\nwhatever the Fairy said, praised her mistress for her discretion.\n\"Well,\" thought he, whilst eating, \"I am charmed at having come here.\nThis example makes me see how wisely I have acted in not listening to\nflatterers. Such people praise us shamelessly, hide our defects from\nus, and change them into perfections: as for me, I shall never be\ntheir dupe--I know my faults, thank God.\" The poor D\u00e9sir believed this\nthoroughly, and did not feel that those who had praised his nose mocked\nhim as much as the Fairy's waiting-woman mocked her (for the Prince saw\nthat she turned aside from time to time to laugh). As for him, he said\nnot a word, but ate with all his might.\n\n\"Prince,\" said the Fairy, when he began to be satisfied, \"turn yourself\na little, I beg; your nose throws a shadow which prevents my seeing\nwhat is on my plate. Now, come, let us speak of your father: I went to\nhis Court at the time that he was a little boy, but it is forty years\nsince I retired to this solitude. Tell me a little about the way they\nlive at Court at present: the ladies, do they still love running from\nplace to place? In my time, one saw them the same day at the assembly,\nat the theatres, at the promenades, at the ball--How long your nose is!\nI cannot get accustomed to the sight of it!\" \"Indeed,\" replied D\u00e9sir,\n\"I wish you would cease to speak of my nose--it is as it is--what does\nit matter to you? I am content with it, and I would not have it any\nshorter; every one has his nose as it pleases Providence.\" \"Oh! I see\nplainly that you are angry, my poor D\u00e9sir,\" said the Fairy; \"it was\nnot, however, my intention to annoy you, quite the contrary, I am one\nof your friends, and I wish to render you a service; but, in spite\nof that, I cannot help being shocked at your nose; I will, however,\ntry not to speak of it, I will force myself even to think you are\nsnub-nosed, although, to tell you the truth, there is enough material\nin that nose to make three reasonable noses.\"\n\nD\u00e9sir, who had supped, became so impatient at the endless talk which\nthe Fairy kept up on the subject of his nose, that he threw himself\non his horse and rode off. He continued his journey, and wherever he\npassed he thought everybody was mad, because every one exclaimed at\nhis nose; but notwithstanding this, he had been so accustomed to\nhear it said that his nose was handsome, that he could never admit\nto himself that it was too long. The old Fairy, who wished to render\nhim a service in spite of himself, took it into her head to shut up\nMignone in a crystal palace, and placed this palace in the road of the\nPrince. D\u00e9sir, transported with joy, strove to break it, but he could\nnot succeed; in despair, he wished to approach so as at least to speak\nto the Princess, who, on her part also stretched out her hand close to\nthe glass. He wished to kiss this hand, but whichever way he turned he\ncould not get his mouth near it, because his nose prevented him. He\nperceived, for the first time, its extraordinary length, and putting\nhis hand to it to bend it on one side, \"It must be confessed,\" said he,\n\"that my nose is too long.\" At that moment the crystal palace fell to\npieces, and the old woman, who held Mignone by the hand, said to the\nPrince, \"Confess that you are under a great obligation to me; I might\nhave spoken in vain to you of your nose, you would never have believed\nin the defect had it not become an obstacle to the attainment of your\nwishes.\"\n\nIt is thus that self-love hides from us the deformities of our soul and\nbody. Reason in vain seeks to exhibit them to us, we do not admit them\ntill the moment when this same self-love finds them contrary to its\ninterest. D\u00e9sir, whose nose had now become an ordinary one, profited by\nthis lesson; he married Mignone, and lived happily with her for a great\nnumber of years.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCE CH\u00c9RI.\n\n\nThere was once upon a time so excellent a monarch that his subjects\ncalled him King Good. One day, when he was hunting, a little white\nrabbit which the dogs were about to kill, jumped into his arms. The\nKing caressed the little rabbit, and said, \"As it has put itself under\nmy protection, I will not allow any harm to be done to it.\" He carried\nthe little rabbit into his palace and gave it a pretty little house\nand nice herbs to eat. At night, when he was alone in his chamber, a\nbeautiful lady appeared before him; she was arrayed neither in gold nor\nin silver, but her robe was white as snow, and her head-dress consisted\nsimply of a crown of white roses. The good King was much surprised to\nsee this lady, as his door was locked, and he knew not how she had\nentered. She said to him, \"I am the Fairy Candid; I passed through the\nwood as you were hunting, and I wished to ascertain if you were as\ngood as everybody said you were. For that purpose I took the form of a\nlittle rabbit, and I saved myself by jumping into your arms; for I know\nthat those who have pity for animals have more still for men; and if\nyou had refused me your assistance I should have thought you wicked. I\ncome to thank you for the kindness you have shown me, and to assure you\nI shall always be your friend. You have only to ask me for anything you\nwish, I promise to grant it.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said the good King, \"as you are a Fairy, you ought to know all\nI wish for. I have but one son, whom I love exceedingly, and on that\naccount they have named him Prince Ch\u00e9ri; if you have any affection\nfor me, become the friend of my son.\" \"With all my heart,\" said the\nFairy; \"I can make your son the handsomest Prince in the world,\nor the richest, or the most powerful; choose which you wish him to\nbe.\" \"I desire none of those things for my son,\" said the good King;\n\"but I shall be much obliged if you will make him the best of all\nPrinces. What will it profit him to be handsome, rich, to have all the\nkingdoms of the world, if he should be wicked? You know well he would\nbe miserable, and that nothing but virtue can make him happy.\" \"You\nare quite right,\" said Candid; \"but it is not in my power to make the\nPrince Ch\u00e9ri a good man in spite of himself; he must himself endeavour\nto become virtuous. All I can promise you is to give him good advice,\nto point out to him his faults, and to punish him if he will not\ncorrect them and punish himself.\"\n\nThe good King was quite content with this promise, and died a short\ntime afterwards. Prince Ch\u00e9ri wept much for his father, for he loved\nhim with all his heart, and he would have given all his kingdoms, his\ngold, and his silver, to have saved him, if such things had power to\nchange the will of fate. Two years after the death of the good King,\nCh\u00e9ri being in bed, Candid appeared to him. \"I promised your father,\"\nsaid she to him, \"to be your friend; and, to keep my word, I come to\nmake you a present.\" At the same time she placed on the finger of Ch\u00e9ri\na little gold ring, and said to him, \"Keep this ring carefully--it is\nmore precious than diamonds. Every time you commit a bad action it will\nprick your finger; but if in spite of this pricking you persist in the\nevil deed, you will lose my friendship, and I shall become your enemy.\"\n\nCandid disappeared as she uttered these words, and left Ch\u00e9ri much\nastonished. For some time his conduct was so faultless that the ring\ndid not prick him at all, and this gave him so much gratification, that\nhis subjects added to his name Ch\u00e9ri, or Beloved, that of Heureux, or\nHappy. One day he went out hunting, and caught nothing, which put him\nin a bad humour. It appeared to him, then, that the ring pressed his\nfinger a little; but as it did not prick him he paid no great attention\nto it. On entering his apartment, however, his little dog Bibi came\njumping about him affectionately, when he said, \"Get thee gone, I am\nnot in a humour to receive thy caresses!\" The poor little dog, who did\nnot understand him, pulled at his coat, to oblige him at least to\nlook at him. This irritated Ch\u00e9ri, and he gave him a violent kick. In\na moment the ring pricked him, as if it had been a pin; he was much\nastonished, and seated himself, quite ashamed, in a corner of the room.\n\"I think the Fairy mocks me,\" said he to himself. \"What great evil\nhave I done in kicking an animal which worried me? Of what use is it\nto be master of a great empire if I may not chastise my own dog?\" \"I\ndo not mock you,\" said a voice which replied to the thoughts of Ch\u00e9ri.\n\"You have committed three faults instead of one. You have been in an\nill-humour because you did not like to be disappointed, and because\nyou believe both beasts and men were only made to obey you. You put\nyourself in a passion, which is very wrong, and, lastly, you have been\ncruel to a poor animal that did not deserve to be ill-treated. I know\nyou are much superior to a dog; but if it were a reasonable thing, and\npermissible for the great to ill-treat those who are beneath them, I\nwould at this moment beat you--kill you, for a Fairy is stronger than a\nman. The advantage of being master of a great empire is not to be able\nto do all the harm that you may wish, but all the good that you can.\"\nCh\u00e9ri confessed his fault, and promised to correct it; but he did not\nkeep his word. He had been reared by a foolish nurse, who had spoilt\nhim when he was little. If he wanted anything he had only to cry, pout,\nand stamp his foot, and this woman gave him all he wished for; and this\nhad made him wilful. She had told him also, from morning to night, that\nhe would be King some day, and that kings were very happy, because\neverybody must obey them, and treat them with great respect, and that\nno one could prevent their doing whatever they pleased.\n\nWhen Ch\u00e9ri grew up, and was capable of reasoning, he soon learnt that\nthere was nothing so odious as to be proud, vain, and obstinate.\nHe made some efforts to correct himself, but he had unfortunately\ncontracted all three defects; and a bad habit is very difficult to\neradicate. It was not that he had naturally a bad heart: he wept with\nannoyance when he had committed a fault, and said, \"How unfortunate am\nI in having to fight thus all my days against my pride and my temper!\nIf they had corrected me when I was young, I should not now have had so\nmuch trouble.\"\n\nHis ring pricked him very often. Sometimes he stopped immediately, at\nothers he persisted in his ill-behaviour; and what was very singular\nwas, that it pricked him very slightly for a light offence, but when\nhe did anything really wicked, it would make the blood spurt from his\nfinger. At length he grew impatient at this, and wishing to sin at his\nease, he threw away his ring. He thought himself the happiest of men\nwhen he was released from its pricking. He abandoned himself to all the\nfollies which entered his head, till at length he became quite wicked,\nand nobody could bear him.\n\nOne day that Ch\u00e9ri was out walking he saw a young maiden so beautiful,\nthat he determined to marry her. She was called Z\u00e9lie, and she was as\ngood as she was pretty. Ch\u00e9ri imagined that Z\u00e9lie would be most happy\nto become a great Queen; but the girl told him, with much firmness,\n\"Sire, I am only a shepherdess; I have no fortune; but in spite of\nthat, I will not marry you.\" \"Am I displeasing to you?\" asked Ch\u00e9ri,\na little offended. \"No, Prince,\" replied Z\u00e9lie; \"I think you are very\nhandsome; but what would be the advantage to me of your beauty, your\nriches, the fine clothes and magnificent carriages which you would\ngive me, if the bad actions I should daily see you commit forced me to\ndespise and hate you?\"\n\nCh\u00e9ri became enraged with Z\u00e9lie, and ordered his officers to carry\nher by force to his palace. He brooded all day long over the contempt\nwith which this girl had treated him; but as he loved her, he could\nnot make up his mind to harm her. Amongst the favourites of Ch\u00e9ri was\nhis foster-brother, whom he had made his confidant. This man, whose\ninclinations were as low as his birth, flattered the passions of his\nmaster, and gave him very bad advice. When he saw Ch\u00e9ri so sad, he\nasked the cause of his grief. The Prince having replied that he could\nnot bear the contempt of Z\u00e9lie, and that he had determined to correct\nhimself of his faults, because he must be virtuous to please her, this\nwicked man said, \"You are very good to give yourself so much trouble\nfor a little girl. If I were in your place, I would force her to obey\nme. Remember that you are King, and that it would be a shame for you\nto submit to the will of a shepherdess, who should be only too happy\nto be amongst your slaves. Make her fast on bread and water; put her\nin prison; and if she continue to refuse to marry you, let her die by\ntorture, in order to teach others to yield to your wishes. You will be\ndisgraced if it be known that a simple girl resists your pleasure, and\nall your subjects will forget that they are placed in this world only\nto serve you.\" \"But,\" said Ch\u00e9ri, \"shall I not be disgraced if I put\nto death an innocent girl? For in fact Z\u00e9lie is guilty of no crime.\"\n\"No one is innocent who refuses to obey your commands,\" replied the\nconfidant. \"But suppose you do commit an injustice, it is better to\nbe accused of that than to let it be known that it is permitted to be\nwanting in respect for you or to contradict you.\"\n\nThe courtier knew Ch\u00e9ri's weak point; and the fear of seeing his\nauthority diminished made such an impression on the King, that he\nstifled the good impulse which had given him the wish to correct\nhimself. He resolved to go the same evening into the chamber of the\nshepherdess, and to ill-treat her if she still refused to marry him.\n\nThe foster-brother of Ch\u00e9ri, who feared some good change in him,\nassembled three young lords as wicked as himself to carouse with the\nKing. They supped together; and the courtiers took care to cloud the\nreason of the poor Prince, by making him drink deep. During the repast\nthey excited his anger against Z\u00e9lie, and made him so ashamed of the\ntenderness he had shown for her, that he rose like a madman, swearing\nthat he would make her obey him, or sell her the next day as a slave.\n\nCh\u00e9ri having entered the chamber in which the girl had been shut up,\nwas surprised not to find her there, for he had the key in his pocket.\nHe was in a frightful rage, and swore to be avenged on those whom he\nshould suspect of having aided her to escape. His confidants hearing\nhim speak thus, resolved to profit by his anger to rid themselves\nof a nobleman who had been Ch\u00e9ri's governor. This worthy man had\noccasionally taken the liberty of pointing out to the King his faults,\nfor he loved him as though he had been his own son. At first Ch\u00e9ri had\nthanked him, but at length he grew impatient at being contradicted, and\nthen began to think it was only from a spirit of opposition that his\ngovernor found fault with him, whilst every one else praised him. He\nordered him, therefore, to retire from Court; but, notwithstanding this\norder, he admitted now and then that he was an honest man; that he no\nlonger loved him, but that he esteemed him in spite of himself. The\nfavourites were always in dread of the King recalling the governor, and\nthey now imagined they had found a favourable opportunity of getting\nrid of him altogether. They represented to the King that Suliman (such\nwas the name of the worthy man) had boasted that he would set Z\u00e9lie at\nliberty. They bribed three men, who deposed that they had overheard\nSuliman speak to this effect; and the Prince, transported with anger,\ncommanded his foster-brother to send a guard to bring the governor to\nhim fettered like a criminal.\n\nAfter having given these orders, Ch\u00e9ri retired to his room; but hardly\nhad he entered it, when the ground trembled, he heard a tremendous clap\nof thunder, and Candid appeared before him. \"I promised your father,\"\nsaid she to him, in a severe tone, \"to give you advice, and to punish\nyou if you refused to follow it. You have scorned that advice; you have\nretained but the form of a man; your crimes have changed you into a\nmonster, the horror of heaven and earth. It is time I should fulfil my\npromise by punishing you. I condemn you to become like the beasts whose\ninclinations you already copy. You have resembled the lion in your\nrage, the wolf in your gluttony, the serpent by wounding him who has\nbeen your second father, and the bull by your brutality. You shall bear\nin your new form the trace of all these animals.\"\n\nHardly had she finished these words before Ch\u00e9ri saw with horror he\nwas the monster she described. He had the head of a lion, the horns of\na bull, the feet of a wolf, and the tail of a viper. At the same time\nhe found himself in a great forest, on the brink of a fountain wherein\nhe saw his horrible form reflected, and heard a voice, which said,\n\"Consider attentively the state to which thy crimes have reduced thee.\nThy mind is become a thousand times more frightful than thy body.\"\nCh\u00e9ri recognised the voice of Candid, and in his fury he turned to\nthrow himself on her, and, if it had been possible, to devour her; but\nhe saw no one, and the same voice said to him, \"I mock thy impotent\nfury, and will humble thy pride by placing thee under the power of\nthine own subjects.\"\n\nCh\u00e9ri thought that by flying from this fountain he should escape\nfrom much of his vexation, as he should no longer have his ugliness\nand deformity before his eyes: he rushed therefore into the wood; but\nhardly had he gone a few steps, when he fell into a hole which had been\nmade to catch a bear, and immediately the hunters, who had climbed the\ntrees to watch for their prey, descended, and having secured him with\nchains, led him towards the capital city of his kingdom.\n\nOn the way, instead of perceiving that he had drawn on himself this\nchastisement by his own fault, he cursed the Fairy, gnawed his\nchains, and gave himself up to his rage. As he approached the city\nto which they were conducting him, he observed great rejoicing going\non; and the hunters having asked what had happened, were told that\nPrince Ch\u00e9ri, who had had no pleasure but in tormenting his people,\nhad been destroyed in his chamber by a thunderbolt, for so they\nimagined. \"The gods,\" said they, \"could no longer support the excess\nof his wickedness, and have thus ridden the world of him. Four lords,\naccomplices of his crimes, thought to profit by the event, and to\ndivide his kingdom amongst them; but the people who knew that it was\ntheir evil counsel which had corrupted the King, tore them to pieces,\nand have offered the crown to Suliman, whom the wicked Ch\u00e9ri had\nwished to put to death. This worthy Lord has just been crowned, and\nwe celebrate this day as that of the deliverance of the kingdom; for\nSuliman is virtuous, and will restore to us peace and prosperity.\"\n\nCh\u00e9ri groaned with rage at hearing this discourse; but it was far\nworse when he arrived in the Great Square before the Palace. He saw\nSuliman on a superb throne, and heard the people wish him a long life,\nto repair all the evils which his predecessor had committed. Suliman\nmade a sign with his hand to request silence, and said to the crowd: \"I\nhave accepted the crown which you offered me, but only to preserve it\nfor Prince Ch\u00e9ri; he is not dead, as you believe. A Fairy has revealed\nthis to me, and perhaps some day you will see him again as virtuous as\nhe was in his youth. Alas!\" continued he, shedding tears, \"flatterers\nruined him. I knew his heart, it was formed for virtue; and but for the\npoisonous discourse of those who surrounded him, he would have been a\nfather to you. Detest his vices, but pity him, and let us all pray the\ngods to restore him to us. As for me, I should esteem myself too happy\nto bathe this throne with my blood, if I could see him ascend it again\nwith those good dispositions which would make him fill it worthily.\"\n\nThe words of Suliman went to the heart of Ch\u00e9ri. He found then how\nsincere had been the attachment and fidelity of this excellent man, and\nfor the first time reproached himself for his wickedness. Hardly had he\nlistened to this good impulse than he felt the rage which had animated\nhim subdued, he reflected on the crimes he had committed, and confessed\nhe had not been punished as severely as he had deserved. He ceased to\nstruggle in his iron cage, and became mild as a lamb. They placed him\nin a large menagerie, where they kept all sorts of monsters and wild\nbeasts, and chained him up with the rest.\n\nCh\u00e9ri then came to the resolution of beginning to amend of his faults,\nby showing obedience to the man who kept him. This man was very brutal\nwhen he was in an ill-temper. Although the Monster was very docile, he\nbeat him without rhyme or reason. One day that this man was asleep, a\ntiger that had broken his chain threw himself upon him to devour him;\nat first Ch\u00e9ri felt an emotion of joy at seeing himself about to be\ndelivered from his persecutor, but immediately after he condemned this\nfeeling and wished himself at liberty. \"I would,\" said he, \"render good\nfor evil by saving the life of this unhappy man.\" Hardly had he formed\nthe wish, than he saw his iron cage open, he threw himself before\nthe man, who was now awake and defending himself from the tiger. The\nKeeper thought himself lost when he saw the Monster; but his fear was\nsoon turned into joy--the benevolent Monster sprang upon the tiger,\nstrangled him, and then laid himself down at the feet of him whom he\nhad saved. The man, penetrated by gratitude, was about to stoop to\ncaress the Monster which had rendered him so great a service, when\nhe heard a voice which said, \"A good action never goes without its\nreward,\" and at the same moment he saw only a pretty dog at his feet.\nCh\u00e9ri, charmed at this metamorphosis, bestowed a thousand caresses on\nhis Keeper, who took him in his arms and carried him to the King, to\nwhom he related this marvellous story. The Queen desired to have the\ndog; and Ch\u00e9ri would have been very happy in his new condition had he\nbeen able to forget that he was once a man and a monarch. The Queen\nloaded him with caresses; but fearing that he would grow larger, she\nconsulted her physicians, who told her that she must give him no food\nbut bread, and only a moderate quantity of that. Poor Ch\u00e9ri was dying\nof hunger half the day, but he was obliged to have patience.\n\nOne morning that they brought him his little roll for his breakfast,\nhe had a fancy to go and eat it in the garden of the Palace. He took\nit in his mouth, and walked towards a canal which he knew was a short\ndistance off; but he could nowhere find it, and in its place he saw\na large mansion, the exterior of which blazed with gold and precious\nstones. He observed in it an immense number of persons of both sexes\nmagnificently dressed: they sang and danced, and fared sumptuously\nwithin the building; but all those who came out of it were pale, thin,\ncovered with wounds, and nearly naked, for their clothes were torn\ninto shreds. Some fell dead as they issued from it without having\nstrength to drag themselves a step further; others proceeded with great\ndifficulty; whilst some remained lying on the ground dying of hunger\nand begging a morsel of bread from those who entered the house, but\nwho did not vouchsafe a look at them. Ch\u00e9ri approached a young girl\nwho was trying to tear up some grass to eat; touched with compassion,\nthe Prince said to himself, \"I have a good appetite, but I shall not\ndie of hunger if I wait till dinner-time and sacrifice my breakfast to\nthis poor creature; perhaps I shall save her life.\" He resolved to act\non this good impulse, and placed his bread in the hand of the girl,\nwho put it to her mouth with avidity. She soon appeared quite restored\nby it; and Ch\u00e9ri, transported with joy at having so opportunely come\nto her relief, was about to return to the Palace when he heard loud\ncries. It was Z\u00e9lie in the hands of four men, who dragged her towards\nthe mansion, which they forced her to enter. Ch\u00e9ri then regretted his\nform of a monster, which would have afforded him the means of rescuing\nZ\u00e9lie; but a poor little dog as he was, he could only bark at the\nravishers and strive to follow them. They drove him away by kicks;\nbut he resolved not to quit the spot, and find out what had become of\nZ\u00e9lie. He reproached himself for the misfortunes of this beautiful\ngirl. \"Alas!\" said he to himself, \"I am indignant with those who have\ncarried her off. Have I not committed the same crime myself? and if the\njustice of the gods had not frustrated my attempt, should I not have\ntreated her with the same barbarity?\"\n\nThe reflections of Ch\u00e9ri were interrupted by a noise which he heard\nabove his head. He saw a window open; and his joy was extreme when he\nperceived Z\u00e9lie, who threw from this window a plateful of meat so well\ndressed that it made him hungry to see it. The window was shut again\nimmediately; and Ch\u00e9ri, who had not eaten all day, was about to devour\nthe meat, when the young girl to whom he had given the bread uttered a\ncry, and having taken him in her arms, \"Poor little animal,\" said she,\n\"do not touch that food; this house is the Palace of Voluptuousness;\nall who come out of it are poisoned.\" At the same moment Ch\u00e9ri\nheard a voice which said, \"Thou seest a good action never remains\nunrecompensed;\" and immediately he was changed into a beautiful little\nwhite pigeon. He remembered that this colour was the favourite one of\nCandid, and began to hope that she might at length restore him to her\ngood graces. He was desirous of rejoining Z\u00e9lie; and rising in the air,\nflew all round the palace, and found with joy one window open; but in\nvain did he traverse all the building--he could not find Z\u00e9lie. In\ndespair at her loss, he resolved not to rest till he should meet with\nher. He flew for several days, and having entered a desert, observed\na cavern, which he approached. How great was his delight! Z\u00e9lie was\nseated there by the side of a venerable hermit, and sharing with him a\nfrugal repast. Ch\u00e9ri, transported with joy, flew on to the shoulder of\nthe lovely shepherdess, and expressed by his caresses the pleasure he\nfelt at seeing her. Z\u00e9lie, charmed with the gentleness of the little\ncreature, stroked it gently with her hand, and although she thought it\ncould not understand her, she told it that she accepted the gift it\nmade her of itself, and that she would always love it. \"What have you\ndone, Z\u00e9lie?\" said the hermit. \"You have plighted your faith.\" \"Yes,\ncharming shepherdess,\" said Ch\u00e9ri to her, who resumed at this moment\nhis natural form, \"the termination of my metamorphosis was dependent\non your consent to our union. You have promised always to love me,\nconfirm my happiness, or I shall hasten and implore the Fairy Candid,\nmy protectress, to restore me to the form under which I have had the\nhappiness of pleasing you.\" \"You need not fear her inconstancy,\" said\nCandid, who, quitting the form of the hermit under which she had been\nconcealed, appeared before them in her proper person. \"Z\u00e9lie loved you\nfrom the first moment she saw you; but your vices compelled her to\nconceal the passion with which you had inspired her. The change in your\nheart leaves her at liberty to show her affection for you. You will\nlive happily, because your union will be founded on virtue.\"\n\nCh\u00e9ri and Z\u00e9lie threw themselves at the feet of Candid. The Prince was\nnever tired of thanking her for her goodness, and Z\u00e9lie, enchanted to\nfind that the Prince detested his former evil ways, confirmed to him\nthe Fairy's avowal of her affection. \"Rise, my children,\" said the\nFairy to them, \"I will transport you to your Palace, and restore to\nCh\u00e9ri a crown of which his vices had rendered him unworthy.\" Hardly\nhad she finished speaking when they found themselves in the chamber of\nSuliman, who, charmed to see his dear master once more become virtuous,\nabdicated the throne, and remained the most faithful of his subjects.\nCh\u00e9ri reigned for a long period with Z\u00e9lie; and it is said that he\napplied himself so well to his duties, that the ring, which he again\nwore, never once pricked his finger severely enough to draw a single\ndrop of blood.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WIDOW AND HER TWO DAUGHTERS.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a Widow, a very worthy woman, who had\ntwo daughters, both of whom were very amiable; the eldest was named\nBlanche, the second Vermeille. They had been given these names because\nthe first had the fairest complexion in the world, and the second\ncheeks and lips as red as vermilion or the finest coral. One day the\ngood Widow, sitting at her door spinning, saw a poor old woman, who\ncould with difficulty walk, even with the aid of a stick. \"You seem\nvery tired,\" said the good Widow to the old creature; \"sit down a\nmoment and rest,\" and immediately desired her daughter to place a chair\nfor her. They both rose directly, but Vermeille ran quicker than her\nsister and brought the chair. \"Will you take something to drink?\" said\nthe good woman to the old one. \"With all my heart,\" replied she; \"I\ncould even eat something, if you could give me a morsel to refresh me.\"\n\"I will give you all in my power,\" said the good Widow: \"but I am poor,\nand it will not be much.\" At the same time she told her daughters to\nattend on the old woman, who placed herself at the table; and the good\nWidow told her eldest daughter to go and gather some plums from a tree\nwhich the young girl had planted herself, and of which she was very\nfond.\n\nBlanche, instead of obeying her mother cheerfully, murmured against\nthis order, and said to herself, \"It was not for this old greedy\ncreature that I have taken so much care of my plum-tree.\" She dared not\nrefuse, however, to gather some of the plums; but she did so with an\nill grace, and unwillingly.\n\n  [Illustration: The Widow and her Two Daughters.--P. 495.]\n\n\"And you, Vermeille,\" said the good woman to her second daughter, \"you\nhave no fruit to give this good lady, for your grapes are not yet\nripe.\" \"True,\" said Vermeille, \"but I hear my hen cluck; she has just\nlaid an egg, and if madame will like to eat it warm I will give it her\nwith all my heart.\" At the same time, without awaiting the reply of\nthe old woman, she ran to fetch her egg; but at the same moment that\nshe presented it to the stranger she disappeared, and they saw in her\nplace a beautiful lady, who said to the mother, \"I am about to reward\nyour two daughters according to their deserts. The eldest shall become\na great Queen, the second a farmer's wife.\" At the same time striking\nthe cottage with her stick, it disappeared, and they saw in its place a\npretty farm. \"There is your lot,\" said she to Vermeille. \"I know that I\nhave given to each that which she will like best.\"\n\nThe Fairy departed as she uttered these words, and the mother, as well\nas her two daughters, remained struck with astonishment. They entered\nthe farmhouse, and were charmed with the style of the furniture. The\nchairs were only of wood, but they were so polished that they could see\nthemselves reflected in them as in a mirror. The bed-linen was white as\nsnow. In the farmyard there were twenty rams and as many sheep, four\noxen, four cows, and in the poultry-yard all kinds of fowls, hens,\nducks, pigeons, &c. There was also a pretty garden, filled with fruits\nand flowers. Blanche saw without envy the present which had been made\nto her sister, and revelled in the delightful anticipations of being\na Queen. Suddenly she heard hunters passing, and going to the door to\nsee them, she appeared so beautiful in the eyes of the King, who was\nreturning from the chase, that he resolved immediately to marry her.\n\nBlanche having become Queen, said to her sister Vermeille, \"I will not\nhave you remain a farmer; come with me, sister, and I will give you\nin marriage to a great lord.\" \"I am much obliged, sister,\" replied\nVermeille, \"but I am accustomed to the country, and wish to remain\nthere.\" For the first few months Queen Blanche was so much occupied\nwith balls, fine clothes, and plays, that she thought of nothing else.\nBut she soon became accustomed to such things, and they amused her no\nlonger; on the contrary, she became very miserable. All the ladies of\nthe Court paid her great respect in her presence, but she knew that\nthey did not like her, and that they said amongst themselves, \"Look at\nthis little peasant, how she assumes the fine lady: the King had a very\nlow taste to choose such a wife.\" This kind of conversation made the\nKing reflect. He began to think he had done wrong in marrying Blanche,\nand as his love for her declined he neglected her, and passed his time\nwith the handsomest ladies of his Court.\n\nWhen it was perceived that the King no longer loved his wife, the\ncourtiers ceased to pay her any respect. She was very unhappy, for\nshe had not a single real friend to whom she could relate her griefs.\nShe saw that it was the fashion at Court to betray friends for\ninterested motives, to appear to love those whom they hated, and to\ntell falsehoods every moment. She was obliged to look serious, because\nthey said a Queen ought to have a grave and majestic air. She had\nseveral children, and during all this time she had a doctor continually\nattending her, who examined everything she ate, and took from her\neverything she liked. They put no salt in her soup; they forbade her to\nwalk when she was inclined to do so; in a word, she was contradicted\nfrom morning till night. They gave governesses to her children, who\nbrought them up very improperly, without her having the liberty to\nfind fault. Poor Blanche was near dying of grief, and she became so\nthin that she excited the commiseration of everybody. She had not seen\nher sister during the three years that she had been Queen, because\nshe thought that a person of her rank would be degraded by visiting a\nfarmer; but being overcome with melancholy, she resolved at length to\ngo and pass some days in the country to amuse herself a little. She\nasked permission of the King, who willingly granted it, because he\nthought it would be a good riddance.\n\nOn her road she came to the farm of Vermeille, and at a distance she\nsaw before the door a troop of shepherds and shepherdesses, dancing\nand amusing themselves with all their hearts. \"Alas!\" said the Queen,\nsighing, \"when shall I ever divert myself like these poor people, with\nno one to find fault with me?\" As soon as she appeared her sister\nran to her to embrace her. She had such a contented air, she was\ngrown so stout, that the Queen could not help crying at seeing her.\nVermeille had married a young peasant who had no fortune, but he always\nremembered that he was indebted to his wife for all that he possessed,\nand he sought, by his indulgent manner, to mark his gratitude for her.\nVermeille had not many servants, but they were as fond of her as if\nthey had been her children, because she treated them as such. All her\nneighbours also loved her, and all sought to give her proof of it. She\nhad not much money, but she had no need of it, for she obtained from\nher land corn, wine, and oil in sufficiency. Her flocks furnished her\nwith milk, with which she made butter and cheese. She spun the wool of\nher sheep to make clothes for herself, as well as for her husband, and\nfor two children which she had. They were in wonderfully good health;\nand in the evenings, when their work was done, they amused themselves\nwith all kinds of games. \"Alas!\" cried the Queen, \"the Fairy has made\nme an unlucky present in bestowing on me a crown. Happiness is not to\nbe found in magnificent palaces, but in the innocent occupations of the\ncountry.\"\n\nHardly had she uttered these words when the Fairy appeared. \"I intended\nnot to reward you but to punish you by making you a Queen,\" said the\nFairy, \"because you begrudged giving me your plums. In order to be\nhappy, you must, like your sister, only possess such things as are\nnecessary, and wish for no more.\" \"Ah! Madam,\" cried Blanche, \"you are\nsufficiently revenged. Terminate my misery.\" \"It is ended,\" replied the\nFairy; \"the King, who loves you no longer, has just repudiated you to\nmarry another wife, and to-morrow his officers will come to order you,\nin his name, not to return to the palace.\" This occurred as the Fairy\nhad predicted. Blanche passed the rest of her days with her sister\nVermeille in peace and happiness, and never thought of the court but to\nthank the Fairy for having brought her back to the village.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCE FATAL AND PRINCE FORTUN\u00c9.\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a Queen who had two little boys, who were\nperfectly beautiful. A Fairy, who was a great friend of the Queen, had\nbeen requested to be godmother to these Princes, and to endow each\nwith some gift. \"I endow the eldest,\" said she, \"with all sorts of\nmisfortunes until he attains the age of twenty-five, and I name him\nFatal.\" At these words the Queen uttered piercing cries, and conjured\nthe Fairy to change her gift. \"You know not what you ask,\" said she to\nthe Queen. \"If he be not unfortunate, he will be wicked.\" The Queen\ndared say no more, but she begged the Fairy to allow her to choose a\ngift for her second son.\n\n\"Perhaps you will make a bad choice,\" replied the Fairy; \"but never\nmind--I will agree to give him all that you shall request of me\nfor him.\" \"I wish,\" said the Queen, \"that he may succeed always in\neverything he may desire to do--that is the way to make him perfect.\"\n\"You may be deceived,\" said the Fairy; \"therefore I grant him this gift\nonly for five-and-twenty years.\"\n\nThey selected nurses for the two little Princes; but on the third day\nthe nurse of the eldest Prince caught a fever; they gave him another,\nwho fell and broke her leg; a third lost her milk as soon as she\nwas appointed. And the report being spread that the Prince brought\nmisfortune on all his nurses, no one would suckle him or approach him.\nThe poor child, who was famished, cried, and no one pitied him. A fine\nstout countrywoman, who had a great number of children whom she had\nmuch trouble in supporting, said that she would take care of him if\nthey would give her a large sum of money; and as the King and Queen did\nnot like Prince Fatal, they gave the nurse what she asked, and told her\nto carry him to her village.\n\nThe second Prince, whom they had named Fortun\u00e9, got on wonderfully.\nHis papa and mamma loved him passionately, and never thought of their\neldest-born. The wicked woman to whom they had given him was no sooner\nin her own house than she took from him the beautiful clothes in which\nhe was enveloped, and gave them to her own son, who was the same age as\nFatal; and having wrapped the Prince in an old petticoat, she carried\nhim into a wood where there was an immense number of wild beasts, and\nput him into a hole with three little lions, in order that he might\nbe devoured. But the mother of these lions did him no harm; on the\ncontrary, she suckled him, which made him so strong, that he ran quite\nalone at six months. Meanwhile the son of the nurse, whom she made pass\nfor the Prince, died, and the King and Queen were charmed to think they\nhad got rid of him.\n\nFatal remained in the wood until he was two years old; and a nobleman\nof the Court, who went to hunt there, was astonished to find him in the\nmidst of the beasts. He took pity on him, carried him to his house, and\nhaving learnt that they sought for a child to keep Fortun\u00e9 company, he\npresented Fatal to the Queen.\n\nThey gave a master to Fortun\u00e9 to teach him to read, but they forbad the\nmaster to make him cry. The young Prince, who had overheard this, cried\nevery time that he took up his book--so that at five years old he did\nnot know his letters, whilst Fatal read perfectly, and already knew how\nto write. To frighten the Prince, they commanded the master to whip\nFatal every time that Fortun\u00e9 failed in his duties. Thus Fatal, however\ngood he might be, did not escape being beaten; whilst Fortun\u00e9 was so\nwilful and so naughty, that he always ill-treated his brother, whom,\nhowever, he did not know to be such. If any one gave Fatal an apple or\na toy, Fortun\u00e9 snatched it out of his hands; he made him be silent when\nhe wished to speak; obliged him to speak when he wished to be silent;\nin a word, he was a little martyr, on whom no one had any pity.\n\nThey lived thus till they were ten years old, and the Queen was much\nsurprised at the ignorance of her son. \"The Fairy has deceived me,\"\nsaid she; \"I thought that my son would be the wisest of Princes,\nbecause I wished he might succeed in all that he should desire to\nundertake.\" She went to consult the Fairy on the subject, who said to\nher, \"Madam, you should have wished your son to have a good disposition\nrather than talent. He only desires to be wicked, and he succeeds in\nbeing so, as you see.\" After having said these words to the Queen, she\nturned her back on her. The poor Princess, much afflicted, returned to\nthe palace. She would have scolded Fortun\u00e9 to oblige him to do better;\nbut instead of promising to correct his faults, he said that if they\nvexed him he would starve himself to death. Then the Queen, quite\nfrightened, took him on her knee, kissed him, gave him sugar-plums, and\ntold him that he should not study for a week if he would but eat as\nusual.\n\nMeanwhile Prince Fatal became a prodigy of learning and of gentleness;\nhe was so accustomed to be contradicted, that he had no will of his\nown, and devoted himself to forestall the fancies of Fortun\u00e9. But that\nnaughty child, who was enraged at seeing him more clever than himself,\ncould not bear him, and the masters, in order to please the young\nPrince, beat Fatal every minute. At length the wicked boy told the\nQueen that he would not have Fatal any longer in his sight, and that he\nwould not eat till they had driven him from the Palace. Thus poor Fatal\nwas turned into the street, and as they were afraid of displeasing the\nPrince, no one would receive him.\n\nHe passed the night under a tree dying with cold, for it was winter,\nand having nothing for his supper but a morsel of bread which some one\nhad given him in charity. The next morning he said to himself, \"I will\nnot remain here doing nothing; I will work to gain my livelihood until\nI shall be big enough to go to the wars. I remember having read in\nhistory that common soldiers have become great captains; perhaps I may\nhave the same good fortune if I am an honest man. I have neither father\nnor mother, but God is the Father of orphans; He has given me a lioness\nfor my foster-mother; He will not forsake me.\" After having said this,\nFatal rose up and said his prayers--for he never failed to pray to God\nmorning and evening--and when he prayed he cast down his eyes, joined\nhis hands, and did not look about him. A countryman, who was passing,\nand saw that Fatal was praying with all his heart, said to himself,\n\"I am sure that must be an honest boy; I should like to take him to\nkeep my sheep; God will bless me for his sake.\" The countryman waited\ntill Fatal had finished his prayer, and then said, \"My little friend,\nwill you come and keep my sheep?--I will feed and take care of you.\"\n\"I will, certainly,\" replied Fatal; \"and I will do all in my power to\nserve you well.\"\n\nThis countryman was a large farmer, who had a great number of servants\nwho robbed him very often, and his wife and children robbed him also.\nWhen they saw Fatal, they were very well contented. \"He is a child,\"\nsaid they; \"he will do all we wish.\" One day the wife said to him, \"My\nlittle friend, my husband is a miser who never gives me any money; let\nme take a sheep, and you can say the wolf has carried it off.\" \"Madam,\"\nreplied Fatal, \"I would render you a service with all my heart, but\nI would much rather die than tell a story or be a thief.\" \"You are a\nlittle fool,\" said the woman; \"no one will know what you have done.\"\n\"God will know it, Madam,\" replied Fatal; \"He knows all that we do,\nand He will punish liars and those who steal.\" When the farmer's wife\nheard these words, she threw herself on him, beat him, and tore out a\nhandful of his hair. Fatal cried, and the farmer hearing him, asked his\nwife why she beat the child? \"Because,\" said she, \"he is a glutton; I\nsaw him this morning eat a pot of cream which I was going to take to\nmarket.\" \"Fie! how horrid it is to be greedy,\" said the farmer; and\nimmediately called a servant, and bade him whip Fatal.\n\nIt was of no use the poor child saying he had not eaten the cream;\nthey believed the mistress rather than him. After this, he went into\nthe fields with his sheep, and the farmer's wife said to him, \"Well!\nwill you now give me a sheep?\" \"I should be very sorry to do so,\"\nsaid Fatal; \"you can do what you will with me, but you cannot oblige\nme to tell a lie.\" To revenge herself, the wicked creature then set\nall the other servants to treat Fatal ill. He remained in the fields\nnight and day; and instead of giving the same food to him as to the\nother servants, she sent him nothing but bread and water, and when he\nreturned she accused him of all the harm that was done in the house.\n\nHe passed a year with this farmer, and although he lay on the bare\nground and was so ill-fed, he became so strong that he appeared to be\nfifteen when he was only thirteen; besides, he was become so patient,\nthat he did not mind even when they scolded him unjustly. One day that\nhe was at the farm, he heard say that a neighbouring King was engaged\nin a great war. He asked his master to discharge him, and went on foot\ninto the kingdom of this Prince to become a soldier. He engaged himself\nto a Captain who was a great lord, but behaved himself more like a\ncommon porter, he was so brutal; he swore, he beat his soldiers, he\nrobbed them of half the money which the King gave for their food and\nclothing; and under this wicked Captain, Fatal was even more unhappy\nthan with the farmer. He had engaged himself for ten years, and\nalthough he saw the greater number of his comrades desert, he would\nnever follow their example, for he said, \"I have received the money\nto serve ten years; I should rob the King if I failed in my word.\"\nAlthough the Captain was a wicked man, and ill-treated Fatal like the\nothers, he could not help esteeming him because he saw that he always\ndid his duty. He gave him money to do his commissions, and Fatal had\nthe key of his chamber when he went to the country, where he dined with\nhis friends.\n\nThis Captain was not fond of reading; but he had a large library, to\nmake believe to those who came to his house that he was a clever man,\nfor in that country they thought that an officer who did not read\nhistory could never be anything but a fool and an ignoramus. When\nFatal had finished his duties as a soldier, instead of going to drink\nand gamble with his comrades, he shut himself up in the Captain's\nchamber and tried to learn his profession by reading the lives of great\nGenerals, and by these means he became capable of commanding an army.\n\nHe had already been seven years a soldier when he went to the war. His\nCaptain took six soldiers with him, to make a search in a little wood;\nand when in this little wood, the soldiers said quite low, \"We must\nkill this wicked man, who beats us and steals our bread.\" Fatal told\nthem they must not do such a wicked action; but, instead of listening\nto him, they said they would kill him with the Captain, and all five\ndrew their swords. Fatal placed himself by the side of the Captain, and\nfought with so much valour that he alone killed four of the soldiers.\nHis Captain, seeing that he owed his life to him, begged his pardon\nfor all the ill he had done him; and having reported his conduct to\nthe King, Fatal was made a Captain, and the King granted him a large\npension.\n\nOh, you may be sure the soldiers did not wish to kill Fatal, for\nhe loved them like his children; and far from robbing them of what\nbelonged to them, he gave them his own money when they were wounded,\nand never took it away again when in an ill humour. Meanwhile a great\nbattle was fought, and the General commanding the army having been\nkilled, all the officers and soldiers were retreating in disorder, but\nFatal cried aloud that he would rather die sword in hand than fly like\na coward. His own men answered that they would not abandon him, and\ntheir good example having shamed the others, they rallied round Fatal\nand fought so well that they routed the enemy, and took the hostile\nKing's son prisoner. The other King was very pleased when he heard that\nhe had gained the battle, and said to Fatal that he would make him\nGeneral of all the army. He presented him to the Queen and the Princess\nhis daughter, who gave him their hands to kiss.\n\nWhen Fatal saw the Princess, he remained motionless. She was so\nbeautiful, that he felt madly in love with her, and then he was indeed\nmiserable; for he felt that a man like himself was not fit to marry a\ngreat Princess. He resolved, therefore, carefully to conceal his love,\nand every day he suffered the greatest torment; but it was much worse\nwhen he found that Fortun\u00e9, having seen a picture of the Princess, who\nwas named Gracieuse, had fallen in love with her, and that he had sent\nambassadors to demand her hand in marriage.\n\nFatal thought he should die of grief; but the Princess Gracieuse, who\nknew that Fortun\u00e9 was a wicked, cowardly Prince, begged the King, her\nfather, so hard not to make her marry him, that he replied to the\nambassador that the Princess did not wish to marry yet. Fortun\u00e9, who\nhad never been contradicted, was in a fury when he heard the reply of\nthe Princess; and his father, who could refuse him nothing, declared\nwar with the father of Gracieuse, who did not distress himself much\nabout it, for he said, \"So long as I have Fatal at the head of my army,\nI do not fear being defeated.\"\n\nHe sent for his General, and ordered him to prepare for war; but\nFatal, throwing himself at his feet, told him that he was born in the\nkingdom of the father of Fortun\u00e9, and that he could not fight against\nhis native Sovereign. The father of Gracieuse was in a great rage, and\ntold Fatal that he would put him to death if he refused to obey him;\nbut that, on the contrary, he would give him his daughter in marriage\nif he gained the victory over Fortun\u00e9. Poor Fatal, who loved Gracieuse\npassionately, was sorely tempted, but in the end resolved to do his\nduty.\n\nWithout saying anything to the King, he quitted the Court, and\nabandoned all his wealth. Meanwhile, Fortun\u00e9 put himself at the head\nof his troops, and marched to give the King battle; but at the end\nof four days he fell ill of fatigue, for he was very delicate, never\nhaving taken any exercise. The heat, the cold--everything made him\nill. However, the ambassador, who wished to make his court to Fortun\u00e9,\ntold him that he had seen at the Court of Gracieuse the little boy\nwho had been banished from the Palace, and that they said the father\nof Gracieuse had promised him his daughter. Fortun\u00e9 at this news put\nhimself in a great passion, and as soon as he was better, set out again\ndetermined to dethrone the father of Gracieuse, and promised a large\nsum of money to any one who would bring Fatal to him dead or alive.\n\nFortun\u00e9 won a great victory, although he did not fight himself, for he\nwas afraid of being killed. At length he besieged the capital city of\nhis enemy, and resolved to take it by assault. The eve of this day they\nbrought Fatal to him, bound in chains, for a great number of people\nhad been tempted by the reward to seek for him. Fortun\u00e9, charmed at\nbeing able to revenge himself, resolved, before commencing the assault,\nto have Fatal beheaded in sight of the enemy. That same day he gave\na great feast to his officers to celebrate his birthday, being just\ntwenty-five years old. The soldiers in the besieged city having learnt\nthat Fatal was taken, and that in an hour he was to be beheaded,\nresolved to perish or save him, for they remembered the benefits he had\nconferred on them whilst he was their General. They asked permission of\nthe King to make a sortie, and this time they were victorious.\n\nThe gift of Fortun\u00e9 had ceased, and he was killed in endeavouring to\nescape. The victorious soldiers ran to take off the chains of Fatal,\nand at the same moment they saw two brilliant chariots appear in the\nair. The Fairy was in one of these chariots, and the father and mother\nof Fatal were in the other, but asleep. They only awoke as their\nchariot touched the ground, and they were very much astonished to find\nthemselves in the midst of the army.\n\nThe Fairy then addressing the Queen, and presenting Fatal to her, said,\n\"Madam, behold in this hero your eldest son; the misfortunes which he\nhas undergone have corrected the defects of his character, which was\nviolent and passionate. Fortun\u00e9, on the contrary, who was born with\ngood inclinations, has been entirely spoilt by flattery, and God has\nnot permitted him to live longer, because he would have become more\nwicked every day. He has just been killed; but to console you for his\ndeath, learn that he was on the point of dethroning his father, because\nhe was tired of waiting to be King.\" The King and Queen were very much\nastonished, and embraced Fatal with all their heart, of whom they had\nheard speak honourably. The Princess Gracieuse and her father learnt\nwith joy the adventures of Fatal, who married Gracieuse, with whom\nhe lived a long time in perfect happiness, because it was founded in\nvirtue.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\n\n\nCHARLES PERRAULT.\n\n\nMember of the Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise, and _premier commis des batimens du\nRoi_, was born, as he himself tells us in the _M\u00e9moires_ he left to\nhis children, in Paris, on the 12th of January, 1628; and at eight\nand a half years of age was sent to the College of Beauvais, where he\ngave early proof of his literary abilities. He died in 1703. Although\nthe author of many creditable compositions, both in prose and verse,\nhe is indebted for his celebrity to that collection of Fairy tales\nwhich, under the title of _Histoires, ou Contes du Tems pass\u00e9_, were\nfirst published in 1697, and speedily obtained a world-wide popularity\nas _Les Contes de ma M\u00e8re l'Oye_, known in England as _Mother Goose's\nFairy Tales_.\n\nThey were published by Perrault, under the name of his son, Perrault\nD'Armancour, at that time a child only ten years old, whose name is\nappended to the dedication of the first edition to \"Mademoiselle,\"\n_i.e_., Elizabeth Charlotte d'Orleans, sister of Philippe, Duke of\nChartres, and, after the death of Louis XIV., Regent of France.\nMademoiselle was born 13th September, 1676. The title, _Contes de ma\nM\u00e8re l'Oye_, has given rise to much controversy, and a great deal of\npaper, not to say learning, has been wasted in the attempt to discover\nthe original source of the stories, and the reason of their being\ncalled those of \"Ma M\u00e8re l'Oye.\" The former question I shall reserve\nfor discussion in my notices of the tales themselves. The latter we\nwill dispose of at once. Monsieur Colin de Plancy, in his valuable\nedition of the _\u0152uvres Choisis de Charles Perrault_, 8vo, Paris,\n1826; and Baron Walkena\u00ebr in his _Lettres sur les Contes des F\u00e9es\nattribu\u00e9s \u00e0 Perrault, &c_., Paris, 12mo, same date, have pretty well\nexhausted the subject. The three principal derivations that have been\ninsisted upon, are:--\n\nFirstly. That in an ancient _fabliau_, \"a goose is represented telling\nstories to her goslings, worthy of them and of her.\"\n\nSecondly. That in the frontispiece to the first edition of Perrault's\n_Fairy Tales_, an old woman is represented spinning, and beside her are\nthree children, one boy and two girls, whom she is apparently amusing\nby her stories; and that as underneath this are the words _Contes de\nma M\u00e8re l'Oye_,[47] this old woman is no less a personage than Ma M\u00e8re\nl'Oye _in propria persona_.\n\nThirdly. That Ma M\u00e8re l'Oye is one and the same individual with La\nReine P\u00e9dauque, the goose or bird-footed Queen, a soubriquet applied by\nsome to a Bertha, Queen of France; and by others to St. Clotilde and\nthe Queen of Saba.\n\nThe first is an assertion without proof. The second a mere opinion,\nwhich is instantly met by another--namely, that the old woman is\nrepeating to her hearers the stories of Ma M\u00e8re l'Oye. The third is a\ntangible proposition, and has been dealt with accordingly.\n\nAt St. Marie de Nesle, in the diocese of Troyes, at St. B\u00e9nigne de\nDijon, at St. Pierre de Nevers, St. Pourcain in Auvergne, and in divers\nother churches in France, the statue is to be seen of a queen with a\nweb-foot, and therefore called La Reine Pied-d'oie, or P\u00e9dauque.[48]\nThis statue is said by Mabillon, but without giving any authority for\nhis assertion, to represent St. Clotilde.\n\nThe Abb\u00e9 Leb\u0153uf believes that the origin of this name is to be found\nat Toulouse. He quotes a passage in Rabelais, who, speaking of certain\nlarge-footed persons, says, \"they were splay-footed, like geese, or\nQueen P\u00e9dauque in her portrait formerly at Toulouse;\" \"and the Abb\u00e9\nconcludes,\" says Monsieur de Plancy, \"curiously enough, that the Queen\nP\u00e9dauque is the Queen of Saba;\" supporting his opinion by the following\ntale in the _Targum of Jerusalem_:--\n\n\n\"The Queen of Saba was so fond of bathing, that she plunged every day\nin the sea. When she went to visit Solomon, he received her in an\napartment of crystal. The Queen of Saba on entering it, imagined that\nthe Monarch was in the water, and in order to pass through it to him,\nshe lifted her robe. The King then seeing her feet, which were hideous,\nsaid to her: 'Your face unites all the charms of the most beautiful\nwomen, but your legs and feet correspond but little to it.'\"\n\nEven if we could suppose Solomon to have been so ungallant, there does\nnot appear much in this Hebrew story to bear upon the subject; for what\npossible reason was there for attributing these stories to the Queen of\nSaba? Bullet, _doyen_ of the University of Besan\u00e7on, goes back to the\neleventh century, in France, for the source of this epithet. The Good\nKing Robert had married his relative, Bertha; Gregory V. compelled him\nto divorce her, and imposed on him a penance of seven years. The King,\nwho loved Bertha, refused obedience, and the Pope excommunicated him.\nHe was deserted by everybody except two servants. In the meanwhile,\nBertha was said to have been brought to bed of a monster resembling\nan ill-formed duck, or, according to others, a goose. Abbon, Abbot of\nFleury, brought the supposed offspring to the King, who, horrified at\nthe sight of it, repudiated Bertha, leaving her, however, the title of\nQueen. The dreadful story was circulated that she had given birth to a\ngoose, and that she had herself become goose-footed, as a punishment\nfor her criminal marriage. Her name of Bertha gave more authority to\nthis story in the eyes of the people. They remembered that Bertha or\nBertrade, wife of Pepin-le-bref, was surnamed \"Bertha with the Great\nFoot,\" because she had one foot larger than the other; and they called\nthe repudiated wife of Robert, \"Bertha au pied d'Oie.\" It is possible\nalso, remarks Mons. de Plancy, that this fable was invented to flatter\nQueen Constance, who succeeded her, for it was the period of credulity\nand superstition. Constance went to Toulouse. She was lodged in front\nof an aqueduct so narrow that a man could not pass through it. To amuse\nthe Princess, they told her it was the bridge of Queen Goose, or of the\nqueen with the goose's foot. This story was afterwards amplified, and\nit became a saying that Queen P\u00e9dauque was of Toulouse.\n\nIn the _Contes d'Entrapel_, by No\u00ebl Dufail, published during the latter\nhalf of the sixteenth century, a man is made to swear by \"the spindle\nof Queen P\u00e9dauque;\" and therefore Bullet assumes that she must have\nbeen Queen Bertha, because there is an old French saying, \"when Queen\nBertha spun,\"[49] which is applied to any marvellous story of bygone\ndays, or to events that are said to have happened \"once upon a time.\"\nThis is very inconclusive. In the middle ages, spinning was a favourite\noccupation of queens and princesses, and Queen Bertha was by no means\nan exception.[50] There is another French saying, similarly applied to\nan incredible tale--\"It is of the time when King Robert sang to the\nlute,\" the said King Robert being the husband of Queen Bertha. This\nis all tantamount only to our old English sayings, \"When Adam was a\nlittle boy,\" and \"When Adam delved and Eve span,\" &c. It is also more\nthan probable that the Bertha of the proverb is identical with the Frau\nBerchta of German superstition. She is said to live in the imaginations\nof the upper German races in Austria, Bavaria, Swabia, Alsace,\nSwitzerland, and some districts of Thuringia and Franconia. She appears\nin _The Twelve Nights_ as a woman with shaggy hair, to inspect the\nspinners, when fish and porridge are to be eaten in honour of her, and\nall the distaffs must be spun off. This superstition was also common in\nEngland:--\n\n    Partly work and partly play\n    You must on St. Distaff's day.\n\nThat is, the day after Twelfth Day, and is evidently the relic of some\npagan rite in honour, most probably, of Freya or Frega, the Venus of\nthe Scandinavians. \"Dame Bertha horned,\" is one of the characters in_\nLes Evangiles des Conoilles_ (Quenouilles), the joint composition\nof Jean d'Arras and three other writers, in 1475. It was translated\ninto English, and printed by Winkyn de Worde, with the title of _The\nGospelles of Distaffs_.[51]\n\nA writer who signs himself Philetymus, has acutely pointed out a more\nprobable origin of the title of_ Contes de ma_ (or _de le_) _M\u00e8re\nl'Oye_, which it is clear, from passages in Boileau and Moli\u00e8re, was\napplied to a certain collection of old stories, long before Perrault\npublished his _Histoires du Temps Pass\u00e9_. This writer refers us to\nthe customs of antiquity and the superstitions of the middle ages.\nHe recals to us that the ancient Romans confided their dwellings\nto the care of their geese. He alludes to the two hundred thousand\nCrusaders who, in 1096, directed their march by the flight of a goose\nfrom Hungary to Jerusalem; to the guardian fairies of the Ch\u00e2teau\nde Piron in the Contentin, who, at the time of the invasion of the\nNormans, transformed themselves into wild geese; to the _benevolent_\nand _protecting_ dwarfs of the Canton of Berne, who are said to have\nbeen all goose-footed; and above all, to Marguerite de Navarre, who,\nin her _Heptameron_, calls herself Oisille; and he concludes by\nsaying, \"C'est que la bonne dame Oisille, veuve de grand exp\u00e9rience\ny repr\u00e9sente la M\u00e8re l'Oie; c'est que du cont\u00e9 le moins discret elle\nsait tirer toujours une conclusion favorable \u00e0 la morale.... Contes de\nla M\u00e8re l'Oie c'est \u00e0 dire contes de la vieille grand m\u00e8re, jaseuse et\ncriande comme l'Oie mais comme l'Oie, surtout gardienne vigilante de la\nmaison.... J'allais dire de la Vertu.\"\n\nThere is, amidst all this suggestion, one fact to repose upon. It is,\nthat Perrault was not the inventor of the stories he published; that\nhe merely transmitted to writing, no doubt with some touches of his\nown, tales of the nursery which had descended orally from the earliest\nages of the Celtic occupation of Armorica or Bretagne, to the peculiar\nsuperstitions of which we shall find, as we proceed, they all have\nmore or less reference, and that the particular stories printed in\nthe first edition of his _Histoires du Temps Pass\u00e9_, had long been\npopularly known as _Contes de ma M\u00e8re l'Oye_. In 1678, at the age of\nfifty, Perrault retired from his public office to dedicate himself\nentirely to literature and the education of his children. Some ten\nyears afterwards he composed a novel in verse, founded on a celebrated\ntale in the _Decamerone_ of Boccaccio, and well known to us as _Patient\nGrizzel_, his title being _La Marquise de Salusses; ou, la Patience de\nGriselidis_. It was published at Paris, by Jean Baptiste Coignard, in\n1691. La Fontaine had, as early as 1678, said, in the fourth Fable of\nhis eighth Book, _Le Pouvoir des Fables_--\n\n                        ----\"Et moi m\u00eame\n    Au moment que je fais cette moralit\u00e9\n    Si Peau d'Ane m'etait cont\u00e9\n    J'y prendrais un plaisir extr\u00eame.\"\n\nThese lines it would seem induced Perrault to versify the old nursery\nstory of _Peau d'Ane_, with which Louis XIV., when an infant, used\nto be rocked to sleep; and in 1694, on the publication of the second\nedition of his _Griselidis_, he added to it his metrical version of\n_Peau d'Ane_, and _Les Souhaits Ridicules_, known to us as _The Three\nWishes_. The success of these stories led him to publish, in 1697,\nhis collection of _Les Contes de ma M\u00e8re l'Oye_, under the title of\n_Histoires du Temps Pass\u00e9_, and in the name of his son, as before\nstated. This collection consisted of eight stories only, all in prose:\n_La Belle au Bois Dormant_, _Le Petit Chaperon Rouge_, _Barbe Bleue_,\n_Le Chat Bott\u00e9_, _Les F\u00e9es_, _Cendrillon_, _Riquet \u00e0 la Houpe_, and _Le\nPetit Poucet_--a proof that _Peau d'Ane_ was not one of the _Contes de\nma M\u00e8re l'Oie_, any more than _Griselidis or Les Souhaits Ridicules_.\nThe same eight stories alone appear in the second edition in 1707\n(four years after the death of Perrault), and in the third edition by\nNicolas Gosselin, in 1724. It is not until 1742, when an edition of the\n_Histoires du Temps Pass\u00e9_ was published at the Hague,[52] that we find\nany addition to the first eight stories, and then we have for the first\ntime the story of _L'Adroite Princesse; ou, Les Aventures de Finette_,\npresented to us, with a dedication to the Countess of Murat, as a story\nby Perrault, although a story with that title and on that subject was\npublished by Madlle. Lheritier in 1696, in a work entitled, _\u0152uvres\nM\u00eal\u00e9es, contenant Nouvelles et autres Ouvrages en Verse et en Prose_,\nin which also appears a letter from the author to the daughter of\nPerrault. But even in the Hague edition of 1742, there is no _Peau\nd'Ane_, and it is only in comparatively modern collections that a prose\nversion of that story, as well as the one in verse actually written\nby Perrault, is, with _L'Adroite Princesse_, _Griselidis_, and _Les\nSouhaits Ridicules_, added to the eight original _Contes de ma M\u00e8re\nl'Oie_, or _Histoires du Temps Pass\u00e9_.\n\nFrom these eight stories I have selected six, omitting only _Le Petit\nChaperon Rouge_, and _Les F\u00e9es_, so well known in the nursery as\n_Little Red Riding Hood_ (why \"Riding?\") and _Toads and Diamonds_, and\nfor the atmosphere of which they are alone calculated. On the others I\nshall now offer a few observations in their order of publication, and\nin the same spirit as those appended to the Fairy Tales of the Countess\nd'Aulnoy.\n\n\nBLUE BEARD.\n\n_La Barbe Bleue_ is founded, according to Mons. Colin de Plancy, on a\ntradition of Lower Brittany; and he remarks that Perrault must have\nheard it from the lips of nurses, or perhaps peasants, to have written\nwith so much _na\u00efvet\u00e9_ the scene of Sister Anne. He states also that\nit is pretended that Blue Beard was actually a nobleman of the house\nof Beaumanoir. He does not, however, seem to have been aware that the\noriginal of this terrible portrait is also said to have been Gilles de\nLaval, Seigneur de Raiz, created Mar\u00e9chal de France, June 21st, 1429,\nfor his defence of Orleans against the English, but whose infamous\nconduct in Brittany so exasperated the public against him, that in\n1440 he was arrested by order of the Procureur-G\u00e9n\u00e9ral de Bretagne,\nand having been tried and found guilty, was condemned to be hanged\nand burnt, and underwent that sentence in a field at Nantes, on the\n8th of October (some say 23rd of December) of that same year, after\nexhibiting, says the chronicler, great signs of repentance; his body\nwas taken out of the flames, and buried in the church of the Carmelites\nat Nantes. It was, we are told, his taste for luxury and libertinism\nwhich plunged him into all the crimes for which he was so fearfully\npunished. He squandered a revenue of two hundred thousand crowns per\nannum, an enormous sum in those days, and which he had inherited at\nthe age of twenty. He never travelled without being accompanied by an\narmy of cooks, musicians, dancers of both sexes, packs of hounds,\nand two hundred saddle horses. Unfortunately for him, he thought it\nnecessary to include in his suite of attendants some fortune-tellers\nand pretended magicians, which it is possible in those days may have\ncaused the credulous multitude to impute to him some atrocities of\nwhich he may have been innocent. The whole _proc\u00e8s_ is said to be still\nextant: but we are not furnished with any details which would identify\nhim with the gentleman who rejoiced in a blue beard, and expiated his\noffences by being run through the body with cold iron, instead of being\nroasted at a stake like the guilty but penitent Marshal.[53] Whether\nthe line of Beaumanoir or of Laval has the best claim to the honour\nof his relationship, may be still a matter of dispute; but the fact\nmore important to our present inquiry is, that in either case it is a\ntradition of Bretagne, and therefore strengthens the theory of Mons. de\nPlancy and the Baron Walkena\u00ebr.\n\nThere is no fairy in this story, but there is an enchanted key. \"La\nclef,\" says the author, \"etait f\u00e9e.\" In the old translations this is\nrendered \"the key was a fairy.\" \"F\u00e9e\" is, however, in such instances\nas these, not a noun substantive, but an adjective, now obsolete, but\nto be found in Cotgrave, spelt with a third e in the feminine. \"F\u00e9e,\nm.; \u00e9ee, f.: Fatall appointed, destined; also, taken, _bewitched_ or\nforespoken; also, _charmed_, _inchanted_.\"--EDIT. 1650.\n\nThere is another popular passage in this story which requires a word\nof remark:--\"Je ne vois rien que le soleil qui poudroie et l'herbe\nqui verdoie.\" This has been generally translated, \"I see nothing but\nthe sun which makes a dust, and the grass which _looks_ green.\" Mons.\nde Plancy appends a note to this passage, as follows:--\"1. Poudroyer,\ndarder, \u00e9blouir les yeux. 2. Verdoyer, jeter un \u00e9clat vert.\"\n\nWith great submission to so high an authority, I must venture to differ\nwith him on this point. \"Poudroyer\" is an old French verb, signifying\nto reduce to powder. \"Je poudroie, tu poudroies, il poudroie,\" &c.\n\"Un cheval Espagnol _poudroyant_ tous les champs,\" J. B. Rouss; and\nBescherelle, in his _Dictionnaire National_, remarks, quoting the\nactual passage from Perrault, \"Ce mot sonore po\u00e8tique, \u00e9pargnant une\np\u00e9riphrase est a regretter.\" Verdoyer is also a verb active, signifying\nto grow or become green, and I have therefore taken the liberty to\nrender the above celebrated reply, \"I see nothing but the sun making\ndust\" (that is to say, reducing the soil to dust by its heat), \"and the\ngrass growing green.\" It is the flock of sheep that afterwards raise\nor make _a_ dust. It may be thought I am \"making a dust,\" to use a\nfamiliar phrase, about a trifle; but I wished to point out that unless\nwe could say in English, \"the sun that _dusts_ and the grass that\n_greens_,\" we cannot approach the terse and graphic description of dear\nSister Anne.\n\nMons. de Plancy observes that the incidents of this story (excepting,\nof course, that of the enchanted key) are not impossible, provided they\nare supposed to have occurred in the middle ages; but that Perrault has\nplaced them nearer his own times, by saying that Blue Beard's widow\nemployed part of her fortune in purchasing commissions for her two\nbrothers, as the sale of commissions in the French army was not known\nbefore the reign of Francis I.; but he does not notice that the mention\nof dragoons and musqueteers brings them still nearer. Blue Beard has\nbeen a favourite subject with the dramatists, both French and English.\nThe celebrated melodrama by George Colman the younger, produced at\nDrury Lane Theatre, in 1798, in which the scene was transferred to the\nEast, was rendered still more popular by the music of Michael Kelly:\nthe \"March in Blue Beard\" was perpetrated on every piano alternately\nwith the \"Duke of York's March,\" the \"Battle of Prague,\" and the\n\"Overture to Lodoiska.\"\n\n\nTHE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD.\n\nThe charming fairy tale of _La Belle au Bois dormant_ is the gem of the\ncollection. Its popularity is as great at the present day as it was two\nhundred years ago. I have called the reader's attention in a marginal\nnote to the first mention probably of seven league boots,[54] but I\nreserved for the Appendix some observations upon the earliest mention\nof Ogres and Ogresses. The Baron Walkena\u00ebr, in his letters already\nquoted, has, I think successfully, combated the earlier notion that the\nword Ogre was derived from a classical source. He deduces it from the\nOigours or Igours, a Turkish race mentioned by Procopius in the sixth\ncentury. Some tribes of Oigurs established themselves in the Crimea,\nand their language was called \"Lingua _Ouguresca_\" by the Italian\nmerchants who first traded with them. In the twelfth and thirteenth\ncenturies all Tartars were confounded under the name of Oigurs. When\nthe Magyars, a Tartar tribe from the banks of the Wolga, overran Dacia\nand Pannonia, the names of the ancient Huns and of the ferocious Oigurs\nwere united to designate them. They were first called Hunnie-Gours,\nand their country Hunnic-Gourie, from whence Hongrois and Hungary. The\natrocities committed by and attributed to the Oigurs spread horror and\nalarm throughout Europe. Their cruelties to infants, in which they have\nbeen only equalled by the barbarous Sepoys in the recent calamitous\nevents in India, took especial hold of the imaginations of those to\nwhose care children were specially entrusted, and the appellation of\nOigur or Ogre became synonymous with that of cannibal, or any other\nferocious monster in human form. In Roquefort's _Glossaire de la Langue\nRomaine_, Ogre is also derived from the same source. That \"l'Huorco\"\nof the Italians, the Orco of Bojardo and Ariosto, may be derived from\nthe Latin Orcus, according to Minucci, as Mr. Keightley imagines, I am\nnot prepared to dispute. Such curious coincidences are common to all\nwho have wandered in the mazes of etymology; but I will merely suggest\nthat it is quite as probable that Orco and Huorco were also derived\nfrom Oigur, the name by which the Tartars of the Crimea were known to\nthe Italians as early as the twelfth century, as we have already seen.\nFlorio, however (1598), says, \"Orco as Orca, a _sea_ monster,\" which\nthe Ogre never was.\n\nSpinning with the distaff is the oldest form. A wheel appears in\nilluminations of the fourteenth century, but the woman hent stood\nto her work. The more modern spinning-wheel, at which women sit,\nwas invented in 1530, by a citizen of Brunswick, named Jurgen. For\nillustration of the accident to the Princess, it is perhaps worthy of\nremark that in the Pyrenees and western provinces of France the spindle\nis sometimes pointed with iron. \"It is thus,\" says Mr. Akerman (the\nauthor of a paper on the Distaff in the _Arch\u00e6ologia_, vol. xxxvii.),\n\"rendered a stiletto, with which the woman could defend herself.\" The\nsame antiquary informs us that \"the art of spinning in its simplest and\nmost primitive forms is yet pursued in Italy, where the women of Cai\u00e0\nstill twirl the spindle unrestrained by that '_ancient rustic law which\nforbade its use without doors_.'\" So that the father of the Sleeping\nBeauty had a sort of precedent for his \"Must not spin with spindles\nAct.\"\n\nThe Germans have a version of this story called _Briar-Rose_: vide\nGrimm's _Kinder und Hausm\u00e4rchen._\n\n\nMASTER CAT; OR PUSS IN BOOTS.\n\n_Ma\u00eetre Chat; ou, le Chat Bott\u00e9._--This capital story is said by Mr.\nDunlop and Mr. Keightley to be taken from a collection of stories by\nGiovan Francesco Straparola, printed at Venice in 1550-54, under the\ntitles of _Tredici Piacevole Notte_, and translated into French \"with\nconsiderable embellishments\" in 1585. That the first story of the\nEleventh Night is derived from the same source as Perrault's there\ncan be little doubt; but I am not by any means prepared to admit that\nPerrault was indebted to that or any other printed collection for this\nor any one of those eight stories which it is clear were well known\nin France as _Les Contes de ma M\u00e8re l'Oye_. Straparola, who seems to\nhave borrowed largely from Morlini, and collected stories wherever\nhe could find them, drew upon the traditions of Brittany as well as\non the fabliaux of Provence. It is indeed notorious that the Italian\nnovelists were indebted almost entirely to the Trouv\u00e8res or Troubadours\nof Languedoc, whilst they themselves admit that the plots of their\nromances were of Armorican origin.\n\n    In Britanie of old time\n    These lays were wrought, so saith this rhyme.\n\nSays the old translator of the _Lai le Fraine_, the author of which\nMr. Dunlop acknowledges \"must have been better informed than any modern\nwriter\" (_History of Fiction_, 8vo, 1845, p. 196). In the second\nedition of the Countess D'Aulnoy's _Fairy Tales_, I took an opportunity\nof vindicating that lady from the charge so hastily preferred against\nher both by Mr. Dunlop and Mr. Keightley, and I now contest as strongly\nthe accuracy of the opinions of the same writers respecting the tales\nof Charles Perrault. Neither in the story of Straparola, first of\nthe Eleventh Night, nor in the _Gagliuso_ of Signor Basile (whose\n_Pentamerone_, published in 1672, is also roundly asserted to have\nbeen the \"origin\" of the French _Contes des F\u00e9es_[55]), do we find\n_Puss in Boots_. What would _Le Ma\u00eetre Chat_ be, were he not also _Le\nChat Bott\u00e9_? Nor is there an Ogre--that especial characteristic of a\nlegend of Brittany--nor consequently the delicious scene between him\nand Puss, which so dramatically winds up the French story. The same\nunmistakeable indications of its being a veritable _Histoire du Temps\nPass\u00e9_, militate against the belief alluded to by M. de Plancy, that\nthe Marquis de Carabas was intended as a portrait of some particular\nnobleman of the time of Louis XIV.; and therefore that the usurpation\nof the castle and property of the ogre might be an allusion to the\nindelicate seizure by D'Aubign\u00e9 of the domains of a Protestant, an\nexile in consequence of the religious persecutions at the close of the\nseventeenth century, \"In which case,\" he adds, \"the Cat would be Madame\nde Maintenon!\" What a pity so ingenious an idea should be destitute of\nfoundation. It is more probable that the wits of the day compared the\nillustrious individuals to the Marquis de Carabas and his Cat.\n\nI have kept the old English title of _Puss in Boots_, though it is\nnot literally that of the original. It would have been an indictable\noffence to have altered it.\n\nThe tricks of the cat to catch the rats are described almost in the\nwords of Lafontaine, in his fable of _Le Chat et le Vieux Rat_, in\nwhich Ma\u00eetre Mitis, \"l'Alexandre des chats,\" a second Rodillard, \"se\npend la t\u00eate en bas\" and \"s'enfarine\" for the same purpose.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[47] \"Ce qui nous indique que ce receuil contenait les contes\nvulgairement connus sous ce titre.\"--B. W.\n\n[48] _Oie_ being derived from the Low Latin word _Auca_ (Du\nCange _in voce_).\n\n[49] The Italians have the same proverb--\"Nel tempo ove Bertha\nfilava.\"\n\n[50] In the coffin of Jeanne de Bourgogne, the first wife of\nPhilip de Valois, were found the Queen's ring of silver, her _distaff_\nand _spindle_. The tomb of Jeanne de Bourbon, Queen of Charles V.\nof France, also contained part of her crown, her golden ring, and\nher distaff of gilt wood (_vide_ Lenoir, _Notes Historiques sur les\nExhumations faites en 1793 dans l'Abbaye de St. Denis_).\n\n[51] See a learned and interesting paper on the Distaff and\nSpindle, by J. Y. Akerman, Esq., Sec. F.S.A., _Arch\u00e6ologia_, vol.\nxxxvii.\n\n[52] There was another edition, in French and English,\npublished at the Hague three years afterwards:--_Contes de ma M\u00e8re\nl'Oye, en Fran\u00e7ais et en Anglais_. Par Perrault, avec des figures\ngrav\u00e9es par Fokke. La Haye: Neaulme, 1745. 12mo. It was a rare book in\n1784, when it was sold, at the sale of the library of the Duc de la\nValli\u00e8re, for twenty-three livres nineteen sous.\n\n[53] Mr. Dunlop, who alludes to this story, speaks of the\nmurder of his wives. The author of _L'Art de V\u00e9rifier des Dates_,\ngives him but one wife, Catharine de Thouars, daughter and heiress of\nMille de Thouars, Seigneur de Chabanais et Confolent, whom he married\nDecember 31st, 1420, and who survived him, and was re-married to Jean\nde Vend\u00f4me, Vidame d'Amiens. She therefore lived with him for twenty\nyears, and bore him one daughter, Marie de Laval, Dame de Raiz, who\nmarried twice, and died the 1st of November, 1458. P\u00e8re Anselme says\nhe was contracted in 1416 to Jeanne Paynel, daughter and co-heiress\nof Fouques, Seigneur de Hambye; but that she died previous to the\ncelebration of the marriage.\n\n[54] In the marginal note I have mentioned _Jack and the\nBean-stalk_. This is an error. There are no seven league boots in\nthat story. It is _Jack the Giant Killer_ only who is the fortunate\nproprietor of the \"shoes of swiftness,\" which either suggested, or were\nsuggested by, the boots aforesaid.\n\n[55] \"Of the _ten_ stories in the _Mother Goose's Fairy Tales_\nof Perrault, _seven_ are to be found in the _Pentamerone_,\" says Mr.\nKeightley, in his _Tales and Fictions_, p. 184. I have already shown\nthat there were only eight stories in the _Contes de ma M\u00e8re l'Oye_,\nand in the _Pentamerone_ I find but two that have any similitude to the\ntales of Perrault--viz., _Gagliuso_ and _La Gatta Cenerentola_, both\ndiffering widely in many points from the ancient Breton traditions.\n\n\nCINDERELLA; OR THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER.\n\n_Cendrillon; ou, la Petite Pantoufle de Verre_. Here, again, could\nit enter the heart of an Englishman to call this anything but\n_Cinderella_? I am proud to say I was not equal to such a sacrifice\nto principle. I should have been afraid to meet the eyes of my\ngrandchildren. There are persons, however, who have been cruel enough\nto tamper with the second title, to destroy \"the little glass slipper,\"\nand tell us that in the original story it was not a pantoufle \"de\n_verre_,\" but \"de _vair_\"--_i.e._, a fur much worn in the middle ages,\nand from which the charge of vair in heraldry was taken. I thank the\nstars that I have not been able to discover any foundation for this\nalarming report. Even should it be unfortunately the fact, it would not\naffect the _Conte de ma M\u00e8re l'Oye_, as handed down to us by Perrault.\nIn that, it is an undeniable \"pantoufle de _verre_,\" and has been said\nto represent allegorically the extreme fragility of woman's reputation,\nand the prudence of flight before it is _too late_. There appears to\nbe no doubt that this story is founded on an old Armorican tradition,\nas in 1826 an alteration of an ancient Breton chronicle was published\nby Madame Piette, entitled _Laurette de Karnabas; ou, la Nouvelle\nCendrillon_, which is taken from the same source, but divested of its\nfairy agency; and the Countess d'Aulnoy had previously availed herself\nof some portions of the tale of _Cendrillon_ in her story of _Finette\nCendron_.\n\nThe trial of the slipper is like that of the ring in the story of _Peau\nd'Ane_, and a \"little glass shoe\" is the subject of a German fairy\ntale. The Germans have also a version of _Cinderella_, in which the\nslipper is of \"pure gold.\"\n\nAt the banquet it will be remembered that the Prince is said to have\ngiven Cinderella both oranges and citrons. These do not appear to us\nat present as particularly suggestive of the magnificence of a royal\ncollation; but in the seventeenth century, Portugal oranges were\nconsidered a present worthy princes of the blood. \"Monsieur, me vint\nvoir,\" says the Duchesse de Montpensier, in her _Memoirs_, \"il me\ndonne des oranges de Portugal.\" Moli\u00e8re, in his description of the\ncomedy which formed a portion of the famous f\u00eates given at Versailles,\nin 1668, by Louis XIV., tells us that \"d'abord on vit sur le th\u00e9\u00e2tre\nune colation magnifique d'oranges de Portugal;\" and in his own comedy,\n_L'Avare_, when Harpagon apologises to his mistress for not having\nprepared a collation for her, his son replies, \"J'y ai pourvu, mon\np\u00e8re, et j'ai fait apporter ici quelques bassins _d'oranges de la\nChine, de citrons doux_, et de confitures.\" Also, according to L'Emery\n(_Trait\u00e9s des Aliments_, 1705), the citron was supposed to give a\nbetter colour to the lips, and the ladies of the Court in the 17th\ncentury, therefore, \"portoient en main _des citrons doux_, quelles\nmordoient de tems en tems pour avoir les livres vermeilles.\"--Le Grand\nD'Aussi.--_Vie Priv\u00e9e des Fran\u00e7ais_, tom. i. p. 251.\n\n\nRIQUET WITH THE TUFT.\n\n_Riquet \u00e0 la Houpe_ is perhaps the least known of the eight _Contes de\nma M\u00e8re l'Oye_; but although it has not the attractive qualities which\nhave occasioned the popularity of the others, it is an excellent story,\nwith a valuable moral, though, strangely enough, the _moralit\u00e9_ with\nwhich it concludes takes no notice of it. The object of the story is\nevidently to show the superiority of mental to personal qualifications,\nand the power of the former not only to compensate for ugliness and\ndeformity, but even to make one forget them. The concluding verses,\nhowever, point only to the fact that love can embellish its object, and\nturn even defects into beauties, passing over the more important one of\nthe cause of the love itself.\n\nSome writers have fancied the hero of this story to have been a person\nof distinction at the Court of Louis XIV., forgetting that, like the\nrest in the collection, it is a \"histoire du tems pass\u00e9.\" But, as\nMonsieur de Plancy remarks, \"On voit souvent des allusions ou il n'y en\na point;\" and, as in the case of _Le Chat Bott\u00e9_, the application may\nhave been made to the man from the story.\n\nThe reader has been referred to this Appendix by a marginal note at\npage 32, respecting the _Queue de Renard_. The explanation offered\nby the editor of the French edition of 1826 is, that \"les cuisiniers\n\u00e9l\u00e9gans se coiffaient dans leur n\u00e9glig\u00e9 de travail de la peau de\nquelqu' animal, dont ils laissaient pendre la queue;\" and he adds, \"on\nvoit encore, dans certaines provinces, des _chasseurs_ co\u00eeff\u00e9 ainsi.\"\nThat a huntsman should sport a fox's brush, or wear a cap made of the\nfur of any animal, is not in the least remarkable or uncommon; but I\ndo not see how it can be taken as a fact in support of the assertion\nthat cooks did so either in the time of Louis XIV. or at present; and\nthe Editor does not give us any authority for that assertion. Of all\nanimals, a fox would be the last I should imagine a French cook would\nselect to furnish him with a trophy or a sign of company, and that\n\"twenty or thirty r\u00f4tisseurs\" should _all_ have \"_la_ lardoire \u00e0 la\nmain et _la_ queue de renard _sur l'oreille_,\" appears to me, if we are\nto consider the author to have meant actually the tail of a fox, a very\nremarkable circumstance, as the use of the definitive article in both\ncases shows the \"queue de renard\" must have been as much the mark of a\ncook as the \"lardoire,\" or larding-pin. I confess I am not satisfied\nwith this explanation; and all my own researches and those kindly made\nfor me by friends both in Paris and London, have hitherto failed in\nthrowing any light upon this curious passage. \"Queue de Renard\" is\nthe name of a plant known by us as foxtail, and it is also applied\nto a particular family of flowers; but it is likewise the name of an\nimplement. \"Outil a deux biseaux ou chanfreins par le bout dont on se\n_sert pour percer_.\"--Bescherelle. This description looks vastly like\nsome accessory to the larding-pin.\n\nThe same authority has also: \"Queue de renard \u00e0 \u00e9touper. Le queue de\ncet animal dont se servent les doreurs pour appliquer les feuilles d'or\nou d'argent.\" This, as we know, is not the entire brush, but a portion\nof the hair. In default of any positive information, I will merely make\nthree suggestions: 1. A portion of the herb foxtail, dried, which might\nbe used as a whisk. 2. A small instrument for piercing or skewering.\n3. A portion of the brush, as used by gilders of wood or metal, and\nprobably by the _r\u00f4tisseurs_ of that day, as we find it was customary\nto gild the beaks and legs of the game and poultry served up at the\nroyal banquets. Favin, amongst other writers, tells us of a grand\nbanquet in which \"le quatri\u00e8me service fut d'oyseaux tans grands que\npetits, et _tous le service fut dor\u00e9_.\"\n\nIn the Form of Cury there is a receipt for making \"Viande Riall\"\n(royal), in which the cook is told, after he has dressed it in\n\"dysshes plate,\" to \"take _a barre of golde foyle_ and another of\n_silver foyle_, and lay hom (them) on, Saint Andrew's cross wyse,\nabove the potage, and then take sugre plate, or gynger plate, or paste\nroyale, and kutte hom of lozenges, and plante hom in the voide places\nbetween the barres, and serve hit forthe.\" The peacock served in his\n\"hakell,\"--_i.e._, neck feathers, or in his \"pride\"--_i.e._ with tail\ndisplayed, &c.--had always his bill gilt.\n\nWhatever, in fine, the \"queue de renard\" may have been, I cannot doubt\nthat, worn \"sur l'oreille,\" it was a distinctive mark of a _r\u00f4tisseur_\nof that day, as a pen behind the ear has been of a clerk in ours;\nand the probability is in favour of the third interpretation, as\n_r\u00f4tisseurs_ were, as their name implies, those cooks who prepared the\nroasted dishes only, and in all the old accounts it is especially the\n\"rotie\" that is \"dor\u00e9.\"\n\n_Riquet \u00e0 la Houpe_ is supposed to have inspired Madame de Villeneuve\nwith the idea of the _Beauty and the Beast_. In my notice of that\nstory, I shall have a word to say in refutation of that supposition.\n_Riquet with the Tuft_ was the first of those fairy extravaganzas\nwhich the public have so kindly received during twenty years, at the\nOlympic, Covent Garden, Drury Lane, the Haymarket, and the Lyceum. It\nwas written in conjunction with Mr. Charles Dance, and produced at the\nOlympic under Madame Vestris's management, December 26th, 1836.\n\n\nLITTLE THUMBLING.\n\n_Le Petit Poucet._--This story, under the titles of _Hop o' my Thumb_,\n_Little Thumb and his Brothers_, &c., has been continually reprinted\namongst our English nursery tales; and as I have already spoken of\nogres and seven-leagued boots, there is little else in it that calls\nfor observation. The latter are said to have been \"f\u00e9es\"--_i.e._\nenchanted, as the key in _Blue Beard_. The attempt of the parents to\nlose the children in the wood is an incident in Madame d'Aulnoy's story\nof _Finette Cendron_, drawn, no doubt, from the same source, as Cambry,\nin his _Voyage au Finisterre_, bears witness to _Le Petit Poucet_\nhaving been an \"ancien cont\u00e9 populaire,\" which has for ages amused \"les\nenfans de la Basse Bretagne.\" I think it is quite unnecessary for me\nto go into the question of this story being founded on an episode in\nHomer's _Odyssey_, to prove that Perrault was not thinking of Ulysses\nin the cave of Polyphemus, or that the pebbles and bread were not\nsuggested by the clue of Ariadne.\n\nIn Grimm's _Kinder und Hausm\u00e4rchen_ are several stories about\nThumbling; and I need scarcely remind the reader that England has her\nown renowned _Thomas Thumb_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COUNTESS DE MURAT.\n\n\nHENRIETTE JULIE DE CASTELNEAU, daughter of Michel, second Marquis de\nCastelnau, Governor of Brest, and granddaughter by the mother's side,\nto the Count d'Angnon, Marshal of France, was born at Brest in 1670.\nAt the age of sixteen, she came to Paris in the costume worn by the\npeasants in Brittany, the language of which province she spoke very\nfluently. Her appearance in this dress caused such a sensation that the\nQueen desired her to wear it on her presentation at Court. She married\nNicholas, Count de Murat, Colonel of Infantry and Brigadier des Arm\u00e9es\ndu Roi, descended from a family established in Auvergne before 1300,\nand that afterwards passed into Dauphin\u00e9. Being suspected by Madame\nde Maintenon of having been part author of a libel in which all the\npersons composing the Court of Louis XIV., in 1694, were caricatured or\ninsulted, she was banished to Auch, Department du Gers. After the death\nof Louis XIV., the Regent Duke of Orleans, at the request of Madame de\nParabere, recalled Madame de Murat in 1715. She did not, however, long\nenjoy her return to Paris, as she died at her Ch\u00e2teau de la Buzardiere\nin Maine the following year (1716), at the early age of forty-six.\nShe was the author of many works, both in prose and verse,[56] but is\nbest known by her _Contes des F\u00e9es_, six of the most popular of which\nare here translated. Four of these (_Le Parfait Amour_, _Anguillette_,\n_Jeune et Belle_, and _Le Palais de la Vengeance_) were printed in\n1766, and again in 1817, in the collection of Fairy Tales attributed to\nthe Countess d'Aulnoy, of whom Madame de Murat was the contemporary,\nbut certainly not the rival. Her stories have more the character\nof romances and novels than fairy tales, with a strong infusion of\nsentiment, such as is to be found in the writings of Madame de Scuderi,\nMadlle. de La Fayette, the Countess d'Auneuil, and others of that\nperiod.\n\nThe plots of them were most probably taken from\n\n \"Les contes ingenus quoique remplis d'addresse Qu'ont invent\u00e9s les\n Troubadours.\"\n\nFor to this she is specially invited in the verses at the end of the\nprose story of _L'Adroite Princesse_, which is dedicated to her, and\nattributed to Perrault. It has been shown, however, that if that\nversion of _L'Adroite Princesse_ were really written by him, it was not\npublished till 1742, thirty-nine years after the death of the reputed\nauthor, and twenty-six after the death of the lady to whom it is\ndedicated.\n\n\nPERFECT LOVE.\n\n_Le Parfait Amour_ is a story exhibiting considerable talent, although\ndeficient in those lively sallies, those amusing whimsicalities and\nallusions to the manners and dresses of the period which give so\nmuch piquancy to the Fairy Tales of Perrault, and the more elaborate\ncompositions of Madame d'Aulnoy. The interest is entirely of a\nserious character; but the magic ring, with its power over the four\nelements--the value of which is destroyed by the too hasty wish of\nthe lover--is an ingenious and dramatic idea, and the fatal lamps a\ntruly affecting situation. This is the first Fairy Tale that gives\nus a picture of the Gnomes, and their subterraneous magnificence--a\nsuperstition existing all over Europe; the Trolls, or underground men\nof the North; the little people and ground mannikins of Germany; and\nthe Korr or Korred of Brittany.\n\n                              \"The wise\n    And prudent little people, who keep warm\n    By their fine fires, many a fathom down\n    Within the inmost rocks. Pure native gold,\n    And the rock crystals, shaped like towers, clear,\n    Transparent, gleam with colours thousand-fold\n    Through the fair palace; and the little folks,\n    So happy and so gay, amuse themselves\n    Sometimes with singing.\"[57]\n\nAnd accordingly we find them singing the charms of Irolite, and\nentertaining the lovers with \"une musique fort harmonieuse, mais un peu\nbarbare.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[56] Her _Histoires Sublimes et Allegoriques_ has been\nattributed by the Abb\u00e9 Langlet du Fresnoy to the Countess d'Aulnoy.\n\n[57] Idyllen &c., von J. R. Wyss, translated by Mr. Keightley\n(_Fairy Mythology._)\n\n\nANGUILLETTE.\n\n_Anguillette_ is a story of the same character as _Le Parfait Amour_.\nThe interest is wholly serious, and the termination tragical,\nreminding one, by the transformation of the victims into trees, of the\ncatastrophe of the _Yellow Dwarf_ of Madame d'Aulnoy. The inconstancy\nof Atimir is very naturally drawn; and there is considerable merit in\nthe general conduct of the story.\n\n\nYOUNG AND HANDSOME.\n\n_Jeune et Belle_ might almost be placed amongst the pastoral romances\nof D'Urfey and George de Montemayor. It is full of Watteau-like\ntableaux, many of them suggested, probably, to the writer as to the\npainter by the F\u00eates Champ\u00eatre so much in vogue during the seventeenth\nand eighteenth centuries at the Court of Versailles.\n\nThe sudden and unexpected introduction of Zephyr at the very close of\nthe story as the Deus ex machin\u00e2, is quite in accordance with the taste\nof the period, though much out of place in a fairy tale. It is not,\nhowever, for me to find fault with it, as it afforded me a hint for a\ncharacter which enabled Mr. Robson to display the versatility of his\ngenius in the last of that long series of extravaganzas I have already\nalluded to.\n\nIn the \"Collection\" above mentioned, this tale was substituted for\nMadame d'Aulnoy's _Serpentin Vert_, the _d\u00e9nouement_ of which is also\nproduced by the incongruous introduction of mythological personages.\n\n\nTHE PALACE OF VENGEANCE.\n\n_Le Palais de la Vengeance_ was printed in the \"Collection\" as\nMadame d'Aulnoy's, under the title of the _Palace of Revenge_. It is\nprincipally remarkable for its satirical conclusion--a very original\none for a fairy tale, as the lovers are married, and do not \"live happy\never afterwards.\"\n\n\nTHE PRINCE OF LEAVES.\n\n_Le Prince des Feuilles_ is, to the best of my knowledge, presented for\nthe first time in an English garb. It is more of a fairy tale than the\nfour preceding it, and appears to me to have been suggested to Madame\nde Murat by her residence at Auch, where, indeed, it is most likely to\nhave been written.\n\nThe natural history of the turquoise had been newly popularized by\nthe publications of Chardin and other Oriental travellers; and more\nparticularly by that of a book by Boethius de Boot, _Le Parfait\nJoallier_; Lyons, 1644. The turquoise \"de la Vieille Roche,\" that\nMadame de Murat speaks of, is a stone found near Nichapour and\nCarasson, in Persia--the true Oriental turquoise; whilst those called\n\"de la Nouvelle Roche,\" are not stones, but petrified bones, and are\nfound in Europe, particularly in France, at Auch, (the very place\nto which Madame de Murat was exiled;) and near Simmorre, in the\nD\u00e9partement du Gers; and in the Nivernais, according to the account of\nReamur in the _M\u00e9moires de l'Acad\u00e9mie_, 1715.\n\nTurquoises were formerly very highly prized, and all kinds of virtues\nand properties attributed to them, the greater part of which are\nfabulous, although detailed gravely by de Boot, who was physician to\nRodolph II., Emperor of Germany. The jewellers, even in his day, took\ngreat pains to distinguish between those that retained their colour\nand those that turned green. A fine unchanging turquoise, the size of\na filbert, sold in that day for two hundred thalers and upwards. \"The\nturquoise possesses such attractions,\" says de Boot, \"that men do not\nthink their hands are well adorned, nor their magnificence sufficiently\ndisplayed, if they are not decked with some of the finest.\" The name is\nsupposed to have been derived from Turkey, the country from which they\nwere probably first imported; but others deduce it from Turchino, a\nname given by Italians to a particular blue.\n\nEven at this day, the discoloration or loss of a turquoise is\nconsidered a prognostication of evil.\n\n\nTHE FORTUNATE PUNISHMENT.\n\n_L'Heureuse Peine_ is also, I believe, new to the English reader. It is\nan exceedingly graceful story, and the _d\u00e9nouement_ is novel as well\nas ingenious. The \"little animal\" into which the unfortunate Naim\u00e9e is\ntransformed, is not specified by the author, but from an allusion to\nits _mani\u00e8re de marcher_, I suppose it to be a crayfish, a favourite\nwith the writers of fairy tales.\n\n\n\n\nMADEMOISELLE DE LA FORCE.\n\n\nCHARLOTTE ROSE DE LA FORCE was the daughter of Fran\u00e7ois de Caumont,\nMarquis de Castel-Moron, and granddaughter of Jacques de Caumont, Duc\nde la Force, whose escape from the massacre of St. Bartholomew is\ncelebrated in the _Henriade_ of Voltaire, and who afterwards greatly\nsignalized himself by his exploits during the reign of Henry IV. and\nLouis XIII. She was born in the Castle of Casenove, near Bazas, in\nGuienne, about 1650, and died in Paris in 1724. Her mother, Marguerite\nde Vicof, was Dame de Casenove, and daughter of the Baron de Castelnau.\nMademoiselle de la Force would therefore appear to be maternally\nconnected with Madame de Murat. She is said to have been married, in\n1687, to Charles de Brion; but that the marriage was declared null and\nvoid ten days afterwards. She was the author of several memoirs and\nromances, and of an Epistle, in verse, to Madame de Maintenon; but is\nbest known by her fairy tales, _Contes des Contes_, though only one of\nthem has, to my knowledge, appeared previously in English. That one is--\n\n\nFAIRER THAN A FAIRY.\n\n_Plus Belle que F\u00e9e_ was published, with the usual abridgments and\nalterations, about twenty years ago, in a collection of nursery tales.\nThe story bears a strong resemblance to the _Gracieuse and Percinet_ of\nthe Countess d'Aulnoy; and though the plot is rendered more intricate\nby the addition of another pair of lovers, it does not gain in interest\nas much as it loses in coherence and simplicity. The fair author has,\nhowever, appended a note to her story called _L'Enchanteur_, which\nforbids us to suppose that she was indebted to any previous writer for\nthe plot of her story. She says--\"This story (_L'Enchanteur_) is taken\nfrom an ancient romance ('ancien livre Gothique') named _Pers\u00e9val_,\nseveral things being omitted which were not in accordance with our\nmodern tastes, and several others added. Some names are changed. It\nis the only story that is not entirely the composition of the author.\n_All the others are purely of her invention._\" After this positive\ndeclaration, which we have no right to question, why should we refuse\nto give credit to the Countess d'Aulnoy for the possession of equal\npowers of imagination?\n\nI am by no means impugning the originality of _Plus Belle que F\u00e9e_,\nin pointing out that the notion of the _Fair of Time_ seems to have\nbeen suggested by an old fairy legend of Normandy. \"Near the village\nof Puys, half a league to the north-east of Dieppe, there is a high\nplateau, surrounded on all sides by high entrenchments, except that\nover the sea, where the cliffs render it inaccessible. It is named\n'La Cit\u00e9 de Limes,' or 'Le Camp de C\u00e6sar,' or simply 'Le Catel' or\n'Castel.' Tradition tells that _the F\u00e9es used to hold a fair there,\nat which all sorts of magic articles from their secret stores were\noffered for sale_, and the most courteous entreaties and blandishments\nwere employed to induce those who frequented it to become purchasers;\nbut the moment any one did so, and stretched forth his hand to take\nthe article he had selected, the perfidious F\u00e9es seized him, and\nhurled him down the cliffs.\"[58] I cannot say that Mademoiselle de la\nForce has made the most of this tradition, supposing her to have been\nacquainted with it. Her allusion to the entertainments at Marly, to\nwhich alone she says this fair was to be compared, has reference, I\nthink, to a \"Fancy Fair,\" as we should now call it, in which the stalls\nwere attended, as in our days, by the principal personages of the\nCourt. I feel satisfied that I have somewhere seen an account of that\nentertainment, but unfortunately have no note which would enable me to\nturn to the authority.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[58] Keightley's _Fairy Mythology_, 12mo, 1850, p. 474. There\nwas also a piece, called _La Foire des F\u00e9es_, written by Le Sage, and\nacted at the Foire St. Germain.\n\n\nTHE GOOD WOMAN.\n\n_La Bonne Femme_ is far superior to _Plus Belle que F\u00e9e_. It is indeed\nworthy of Madame d'Aulnoy, and I cannot account for its never having\npreviously met with a translator. It will be recognised by playgoers\nas the foundation of my Fairy Extravaganza, _The Good Woman in the\nWood_, in which form the dramatic incidents of this charming story\nwere first introduced to a London public. As we are bound, after the\nauthor's declaration, to consider it an original story, we need not\ntrouble ourselves to hunt after its source. The other original fairy\ntales--_Percinet_, _Tourbillon_, _Vert et Blue_, _Le Pays des D\u00e9lices_,\nand _La Puissance d'Amour_--bear no comparison to the two I have\nselected.\n\n\n\n\nMADAME DE VILLENEUVE.\n\n\nGABRIELLE SUSANNE BARBOT, \"daughter of a gentleman of Rochelle,\" and\nwidow of Monsieur de Gallon, Seigneur de Villeneuve, Lieutenant-Colonel\nof Infantry, died at Paris, in the house of Crebillon, the tragic\nwriter, Dec. 29th, 1755. Such is the sum of the information afforded us\nby editors and biographers, concerning the author of one of the most\npopular fairy tales ever written.\n\n\nTHE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.\n\n_La Belle et la B\u00eate._--Thousands of English readers have no doubt been\nall their lives under the impression that they knew nearly by heart\nthe story of _Beauty and the Beast_; and though few, alas! may have\ntaken the trouble to inquire who was the author of it, those who have,\nimagine themselves indebted for it to Madame Leprince de Beaumont. Nay,\nthere are many, no doubt, in France who are under the same belief, for\n\"_La Belle et la B\u00eate_, par Madame Leprince de Beaumont,\" is, without\na word of explanation, at this moment circulating as a portion of the\nFrench Railway Library, and was published, with various other stories,\nin a small edition of _Contes des F\u00e9es_ only last year, under her name,\nby a bookseller on the Quai des Augustins, Paris. It is only those\nwho have read the original story by Madame de Villeneuve, either in\nthe _Contes Marins_,[59] or in the _Cabinet des F\u00e9es_, who will not\nbe surprised to find that Madame de Beaumont has merely the merit of\nhaving cut this admirable work down to the smallest comprehensible\ndimensions, and made a pretty little nursery tale of one of the most\ningeniously constructed stories in the whole catalogue of fairy\nchronicles.\n\nThe story of the Beast is but alluded to in a few words, and that of\nthe real parents of Beauty altogether omitted. It is no answer to say\nthat the version by Madame de Beaumont is an agreeable story, that\nthe moral is preserved, and that there are portions of the original\ntale which required alteration or omission. In justice to Madame de\nVilleneuve, it ought never to be printed without the acknowledgment\nthat it is simply an abridgment of her composition, adapted to the\nuse of juvenile readers, by Madame de Beaumont. I have omitted a\ndozen lines, and softened one objectionable expression; but, with the\nexception of this very slight and indispensable alteration, Madame\nde Villeneuve's story is now placed before the English public in its\nentirety.\n\nIt was published in 1740, and Mr. Dunlop remarks that \"it surpasses all\nthat has been produced by the lively and fertile imaginations of France\nor Arabia;\" but in his notice of the tales of Perrault, he says that\nit is an expansion of and adoption from _Riquet \u00e0 la Houpe_. I think\nthis is one of those hasty conclusions of which we are all occasionally\nguilty. I cannot, for my part, see any resemblance between the two\nstories. In _Riquet_, an ugly and deformed prince wins the hand of a\nlovely princess--the usual triumph of mind over matter; but in _Beauty\nand the Beast_, the suitor is not merely a repulsive man, but a monster\nof the most horrible and tremendous description, and who is specially\nprohibited from availing himself of those mental powers which might\nin the slightest degree affect the judgment of the lady. Pity and\ngratitude are the motives which influence Beauty to sacrifice her own\nhappiness to ensure that of the Beast. In the other case, admiration\nof the talent of Riquet renders the Princess gradually blind to the\ndefects of his person. _Le Mouton_ of Madame d'Aulnoy offers infinitely\nmore points of resemblance. The transformation of the King into a ram\nby a jealous and vindictive fairy, and the permission given by him to\nMerveilleuse to visit her family, on her solemnly promising to return\nby a stated period, are features too obvious to be overlooked. The\ndespair of the Ram in consequence of her not fulfilling her promise on\nthe last occasion, is also like that of the Monster; but Madame de\nVilleneuve has avoided the tragical catastrophe; and notwithstanding\nthe similarity I have pointed out, _Beauty and the Beast_, taken as a\nwhole, deserves all the praise that those who are best acquainted with\nit have unanimously accorded to it.\n\nIt is a curious circumstance that the _Gatta Cennerentola_ of Basile,\nand the German version of _Cinderella_, both commence with the\ndeparture of the father on a journey, and the requests of his daughters\ncorresponding exactly in their general character with those in _Beauty\nand the Beast_, while we find nothing of the sort in Perrault's\n_Cendrillon_. I infer from this that the Italian and German writers\nhave mixed two old stories together, and that Madame de Villeneuve's is\nfounded on one of them.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[59] So called from being supposed to be narrated on board\na ship bound to St. Domingo. 4 vols. 12mo. Paris, 1740-41. They were\nrepublished under the title of _Le Temps et la Patience_, in 1768.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COUNT DE CAYLUS.\n\n\nANNE CLAUDE DE TUBIERRE, DE GRIMOAD, DE PESTILS, DE LEVI, COMTE DE\nCAYLUS, was born in Paris, in 1692, and died the 3rd of September,\n1765. He entered the French army early, and distinguished himself in\nCatalonia and at the siege of Fribourg. After the Peace of Rastadt\nhe visited Italy, and in 1717 went to the Levant in the suite of\nthe Ambassador of France to the Sublime Porte. During this journey\nhe undertook an adventure which proves his courage as well as his\nlove of art. On arriving at Smyrna, he was anxious to profit by the\nnecessary delay of a few days to visit the ruins of Ephesus, which\nare about twelve hours' journey from that place. The neighbourhood\nwas at that time infested by a band of brigands, the chief of which\nwas the notorious and terrible Caracayoli. The roads were exceedingly\nunsafe for travellers; but the Count de Caylus was not to be daunted.\nHe provided himself with a dress made simply of sail-cloth, and\ncarrying nothing about him that could tempt the most petty thief, he\nsought out two of the band of Caracayoli, and bargained with them for\na safe conduct from Smyrna to Ephesus and back again, the money to\nbe paid only on his return. It being their interest to take care of\nhim, he found them the most faithful guides in the world. Caracayoli,\non learning the object of his journey, politely offered to assist\nhis researches. He informed the Count that in the neighbourhood of\nhis retreat there were some ruins well worthy his inspection, and to\nexpedite his visit to them, he mounted him and one of his guides on\ntwo fine Arabian horses. The ruins proved to be those of Colophon.\nThe Count returned to the retreat of Caracayoli, and passed the night\nthere, and the next morning proceeded to the site of the ancient city\nof Ephesus, from whence he was safely conducted back to Smyrna by the\nbrigands, each party well satisfied with their bargain.\n\nAfter his return to France, in 1717, he made several other journeys\nabroad, and paid two visits to London. At Paris he occupied himself\nwith drawing, music, painting, writing, and sculpture. He wrote the\nlives of the most celebrated painters and sculptors of the Royal\nAcademy, and founded in that Academy an annual prize for the students\nwho were most successful in expressing the passions. In 1742 he was\nelected an honorary member of \"L'Acad\u00e9mie des Inscriptions,\" in which\nhe founded another prize of five hundred livres for the best essays\non the manners and customs of the ancients. He formed a splendid\ncollection of Etruscan, Greek, Roman, and Gaulish antiquities, an\naccount of which was published (seven vols. 4to, the last in 1767) by\nMonsieur le Beau. He discovered the ancient art of encaustic painting,\nand of tinging marble, from hints in the works of the elder Pliny. But\nall this occupation and study did not prevent this eminent scholar\nand antiquary from indulging in the lighter pursuits of literature.\nHe did not disdain to acknowledge the fascination of a fairy tale, or\nto contribute to the number of them. I have selected three from his\n_F\u00e9eries Nouvelles_, which are in my judgment the best, and display the\ngreatest variety of style and power of imagination. The first,--\n\n\nPRINCESS MINUTE AND KING FLORIDOR.\n\n_La Princesse Minutie et le Roi Floridor_ is written in a spirit of\nplayful satire, which reminds one of those sprightly caricatures of\nfairy tales which flowed so pleasantly from the pen of Count Hamilton;\nbut, unlike _Le Belier_ and _Fleur d'Epine_ of that accomplished\nsatirist, _Princess Minute and King Floridor_ presents us with a\nsound and serious moral, which at this moment, when the sacrifice\nof important interests to routine and etiquette has caused so much\nanimadversion, is singularly _apropos_. It also reads a pleasant lesson\nto those who neglect or misuse the great means and opportunities\nwhich it has pleased Providence to bestow upon them, and amidst all\nits whimsical extravagances, never ceases to whisper in the words of\nSolomon--\n\n Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise.\n\nFloridor was the name of a celebrated French actor of the seventeenth\ncentury. In _Le Temple du Destin_, written by Le Sage, and acted at\nthe Fair of St. Laurent in 1715, the High Priest of Destiny observes\nupon the vanity of an actor--\n\n    Tout ce qui reluit n'est pas or\n    Ils out tous ce g\u00e9nie,\n    Chacun se croit un Floridor\n    La plaisante manie!\n\n\nTHE IMPOSSIBLE ENCHANTMENT.\n\n_L'Enchantement Impossible_ is an amusing story with one blemish, which\nI have ventured to correct by the omission of half a dozen lines, and\nthe suppression of an unnecessary indelicacy. Unlike the last, this\nis a mere work of fancy, without any particular object--a sort of\nillustration of the old song and saying, _Love will find out the way_.\nThe Mer-man and his sister would seem to point out a Breton origin for\nthis story, as the belief in these marine marvels is strong upon the\ncoast of Brittany, where the females are called Morgan (sea-women),\nor Morver'de (sea-daughters), and are supposed to draw down to their\npalaces of gold and crystal, at the bottom of the ocean, those who\nventure imprudently too near the edge of the water; but the Count de\nCaylus was too well acquainted with the classical Tritons and Syrens to\nrender it necessary for him to draw upon the legends of Armorica for\nsuch materials, and it is probable the story is entirely of his own\ninvention.\n\nThe absurd fashions in hair-dressing, glanced at in this story,\nby the introduction of a fairy with her hair dressed _en chien\nfou_, are commented upon in a little volume called _Histoires des\nModes Fran\u00e7aise_; Amsterdam and Paris, 1773. \"The number of these\n_frisures_,\" says the writer, \"is almost infinite. Every year, every\nmonth, produces new ones. We have seen, in succession, hair dressed _en\nbequille_ (crutch fashion), _en graine d'epinards_ (spinach fashion!),\n_en baton rompu_ (broken stick!); yesterday it was _en aile de pigeon_,\nto-day it is _en d\u00e9bacle_.\"\n\n\nBLEUETTE AND COQUELICOT.\n\n_Bleuette et Coquelicot_ is a charming fairy tale of the pastoral\norder, unexceptionable in its style, and salutary in its instruction. I\nhave only to add, in further illustration of the head-dress of Arganto\n(p. 360), that \"Foreign _Marshalle_ Powder\" was advertised in 1781 at\nsixteen shillings per pound, by R. Langwine, at the sign of the \"Rose,\"\nopposite New Round Court, Strand; and that receipts for making it occur\nas late as in Gray's _Supplement to the Pharmacop\u0153ia_, in 1836. The\nauthor of _L'Histoire des Modes Fran\u00e7aise_, quoted above, says he does\nnot \"despair of one day seeing rose-coloured hair powder, blue heads,\"\n&c.; and in _Plocacosmos_ (1781), we actually find receipts for making\nyellow, _rose-pink_, and black hair powder; while Goldsmith, in his\n_Citizen of the World_, Letter III., mentions both black and _blue_.\n\n\n\n\nMADEMOISELLE DE LUBERT.\n\n\nOf this lady we have but very meagre information. She was born about\nthe year 1710, and is said by some writers to have been the daughter\nof a President; and by others, of a \"Tr\u00e9sorier de Marine.\" She appears\nto have led a studious and retired life, her love of literature\nindisposing her to marriage. Her _Contes des F\u00e9es_ were commenced about\n1740; and several have been attributed to her pen which she disavowed.\nThose she acknowledged were:--_Terserion_, _La Princesse Lionette et le\nPrince Coquerico_, _Le Prince Glac\u00e9 et la Princesse Etincelante_,_ La\nPrincesse Couleur de Rose et le Prince Celadon_, _La Princesse Camion_,\nand _La Nouvelle L\u00e9onille_. She was also the author of a translation\nof _Amadis des Gaules_, _Les Hauts Faits d'Esplandian_, and _Anecdotes\nAfricaines_, published in 1752. Voltaire and Fontenelle called her\n\"Muse et grace.\" She was living in 1772, and died before 1779. She had\ndisappeared from society for some time previously, and was presumed\nto be still living at that date; but a letter written by some one who\nknew of her decease, inserted in the _Journal de Paris_ of that year\n(No. 69), addressed to the author of _L'Almanach des Dames Illustres_,\nby \"l'Ombre de Mademoiselle de Lubert,\" and dated from the \"Mille et\nuni\u00e8me Bosquet des Champs Elis\u00e9es,\" seems to have been considered\nsufficient authority; though as no precise time or place is mentioned,\nthe letter might have been written by the lady herself had she wished\nto deceive the public. She had, however, reached a very respectable\nage, and it is probable that she was dead at that period.\n\n\"Her _Contes des F\u00e9es_,\" remarks one of her critics, \"are not nearly\nequal to those of Mademoiselle de Murat and other ladies who have\nwritten in that style. They have less of moral purpose and allegorical\nallusion.\" This is quite true; and my object in publishing the two\nI have selected is to illustrate, as I have mentioned in my preface,\nthe decline of the Fairy tale. Mademoiselle de Lubert is one of\nthe latest of her class. Her stories are only designed to amuse.\nThe publication of _The Thousand and One Nights_, by Galland, and\nthe immense popularity that work immediately obtained, evidently\naffected the composition of fairy tales. Wild, extravagant adventures,\nunconnected incidents, transformations without point or object, a\nstraining after the merely marvellous, and a total abandonment of the\nlaughing philosophy and the unaffected morality which distinguish\nand immortalize the stories of Perrault and d'Aulnoy, were the first\neffects of the circulation of the _Arabian Nights Entertainments_. The\nnext was the Orientalizing of every tale of enchantment. Dull Caliphs\nand Sultans deposed the merry old Kings who \"once upon a time\" ruled in\nFairyland. The amours of the seraglio and the harem were substituted\nfor the innocent courtships of princes or shepherds. The manners and\ndresses of the time, those delicious anachronisms which impart so much\npleasantry--ay, and instruction--to the fairy tale, were carefully\navoided; and the characters, arrayed in what the writers flattered\nthemselves were Eastern costumes, were seriously placed in situations\ncompared to which that of Moli\u00e8re's _Monsieur Jourdain_ as _Mamamonchi_\nwas a nearer approach to reality. Even those that had some claim to\nOriental origin were so altered and \"manufactured for the European\nmarket\" that they were said to appear--\n\n    --en sortant de chez Barbin[60]\n    Plus Arabe qu'en Arabie.\n\n_Le Mercure Galant_ was flooded with these productions. _Almanzor et\nZehra, Conte Arabe_; _Almerine et Zelima, Conte Oriental_; _Balky,\nConte Oriental_; _Zaman, Histoire Oriental_, _&c._ Then we have _Contes\nMogol_, _Contes Turcs_, _Contes Chinois_, _Contes Tartares_, _Contes\nPersans_, _&c._; but we are forgetting Mademoiselle de Lubert and her\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[60] Barbin was the publisher of the _Mille et une Nuits_.\n\n\nPRINCESS CAMION.\n\nA translation of _La Princesse Camion_, much abridged and altered,\nwas published in the _Child's Fairy Library_ some twenty years\nago, under the title of _Princess Minikin._ The plot of this story\nis intricate without being ingenious. The persecution of Camion\nby Marmotte is purely capricious, and her contrivances are of the\nclumsiest description. In the original, Zirphil is commanded to\n\"take off, one by one, the scales of the whale;\" but a whale has no\nscales that it could feel the deprivation of. It is skinning the fish\nalive that would be a cruel operation, and I have therefore rendered\n\"_\u00e9corcher_\" in that sense, and not to scale, as it had been previously\ntranslated, in accordance with the specific direction quoted above.\nThe transformation of the unfortunate Princess into a crayfish, and\nher being shelled instead of pounded as Marmotte had decreed, is all\nof the same character. The long story told by her in that state to the\nother crayfish in the plantation is a lame way of enlightening either\nZirphil or the reader, and has to be continued in as lame a manner by\nCitronette. The pounding the crayfish for the King's soup, and the\ndisappearance of them in flames when they are put into the mortar,\nseems to point to an Eastern origin. The latter portion reminds us of\nthe black man flinging the fish into the fire, in the story of \"The\nFisherman and the Genius,\" in the _Arabian Nights_, where there is also\na city changed into a lake, and all its inhabitants into fishes, and\nre-transformed in the end and restored to the rightful monarch, the\nyoung King of the Black Island. The crayfish broth may be an allusion\nto the well-known _Bisque d'Ecr\u00e9visse_, but it is also an Oriental\ndish; for while this book was passing through the press, a morning\njournal announced that \"the eldest royal son of his Majesty the First\nKing of Siam,\" on his arrival at Claridge's Hotel, \"after satisfying\nhimself that due provision had been made for the comfort of his staff,\nretired to rest, having first partaken of a frugal repast, prepared\nby his own _chef-de-cuisine_, consisting of _crabfish pounded_ with\nvarious Eastern condiments.\"--_Morning Post_, October 31st, 1857.\n\nThe eagerness with which the nobles of the Court sought for the servile\noffice of filling the King of the Whiting's bowl with sea-water, is\nthe only stroke of satire in the story, and evidently levelled at\nthe candle-holding and similar ceremonies of \"le grand et le petit\ncoucher.\" To stand and hold a \"bougeoir allum\u00e9,\" while Louis XIV.\nundressed himself, was, says St. Simon, \"une distinction et une faveur\nqui se comptait, tant le Roi avait l'art de donner l'\u00eatre \u00e0 des riens.\"\n\nIn a note to the expression, \"shrieks like Melusine's,\" page 398, I\nhave suggested that some portion of _Princess Camion_ might have been\nfounded on the romance of _Melusine_. This romance was composed towards\nthe end of the fourteenth century, by Jean d'Arras, at the desire of\nthe Duke de Berri, son of John, King of France, and was founded on an\nincident recorded in the archives of the family of Lusignan, which were\nin possession of the Duke. It is briefly as follows:--\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF MELUSINE.\n\nA King of Albania, named Elinas, had married the beautiful Fay\nPressine, by whom he had three daughters at a birth, Melusine, Melior,\nand Palatine. Fay had stipulated that he should never enter her chamber\nduring the period of her confinement; but the King having broken\nhis promise in his anxiety to embrace his newly-born children, the\nQueen cried out that she was compelled to leave him, and immediately\ndisappeared with her three daughters. She retired to the Court of her\nsister, the Queen of the \"Isle Perdue,\" and as her children grew up,\ninstructed them in the art of sorcery. Melusine having learned from her\nmother the conduct of her father, determined to be revenged on him,\nand proceeding to Albania, by means of her newly-acquired art carried\noff the King and shut him up in a mountain called Brandelois. The\nQueen, who still retained some affection for her husband, on becoming\nacquainted with this unnatural act, punished Melusine by sentencing\nher to become every Saturday a serpent from the waist downwards, till\nshe should meet with a lover who would marry her on condition of never\nintruding on her during the time of her transformation, when she was\nordered to bathe; with a promise that if she strictly attended to this\ninjunction, she might eventually be relieved from her weekly disgrace\nand punishment. Melusine was excessively beautiful, and Raimondin,\nson of the Count de Forez, having met with her in the forest of\nColombiers,[61] fell in love with her so deeply that he married her\nwithout hesitation on the prescribed conditions. She built for him,\nnear the spot where they had met, the Castle of Lusignan, and bore him\nseveral children; but her husband's jealousy being excited by a cousin,\nwho suggested to him that Melusine had a criminal object in secreting\nherself on a Saturday, he made a hole with his sword in the door of the\nchamber to which she was wont to retire, and perceived her in her state\nof transformation. The various versions of this legend differ in the\ndetails of the consequences; but all agree in stating that Melusine,\nreproaching him with the breach of his word, disappeared, and left him\nto end his days as a hermit on Montserrat. The popular belief was, that\nshe appeared on what was called the Tower of Melusine when any of the\nlords of Lusignan were about to die; and Mezeray assures us, on the\nfaith \"of people who were not by any means credulous,\" that previous\nto the death of a Lusignan, or of a king of France, she was seen on\nthis tower in a mourning dress, and uttered for a long time the most\nheart-piercing lamentations. The Duke de Montpensier destroyed the\ncastle in 1574, on account of the resistance made to his arms in it\nby the Huguenots; but the family of Lusignan, till it merged in that\nof Montmorency-Luxembourg, continued to bear for its crest a woman\nbathing, in allusion to the story of Melusine.\n\n Ange par la figure, et serpent par la reste.--_Delisle._\n\n\nPRINCESS LIONETTE AND PRINCE COQUERICO.\n\n_La Princesse Lionette et le Prince Coquerico_ is an infinitely better\nstory than _La Princesse Camion_: but, like that, its aim is no higher\nthan to excite the interest and awaken the wonder of its readers. As\na work of fancy, however, it is one of the best of its class, and I\nbelieve is now for the first time translated into English.\n\nI do not recollect any story on which it could be said to be founded;\nbut at the end of _La Tyranine des F\u00e9es d\u00e9truite_, by the Countess\nd'Anneuil, is a story, entitled _La Princesse Lionne_, in which a\nprincess is changed into a lioness, and persecuted by a fairy called La\nRancune; but there the similarity ends. Mademoiselle de Lubert edited\nan edition of the _Nouveaux Contes des F\u00e9es_ of the Countess d'Anneuil,\nand may have taken an idea from that particular incident.\n\nThe model of the globe in which Prince Coquerico saw and heard all\nthat passed in the universe, and witnessed the opera, the play, and\nthe orations at the _Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise_, reminds one of the room in\nthe Palace of the Beast, the various windows of which afforded Beauty\nsimilar entertainment.\n\nThe Fairy Tigreline's employments of spinning and threading pearls,\nis in strict accordance with the manners of the sixteenth century.\n\"Passons avec les dames,\" says Rabelais, \"nostres vie et nostres temps\n_\u00e0 enfiler les perles ou \u00e0 filer_, comme Sardanapalus.\"--Livre i. chap.\n33. I have mentioned (p. 438) that the opera of _Armide_ was considered\nthe _chef-d'\u0153uvre_ of Quinnault. The music was composed by Lulli,\nand it is reported that he made Quinnault write the last act over again\nfive times, which so disgusted the poet that he ceased to write for the\nstage from that period. The incident of the shield is that in which\nUbaldo holds before Rinaldo his adamant or diamond shield, in which the\nlatter sees himself reflected in his effeminate attire, is awakened to\na sense of his degraded situation, and abandons the enchanted gardens\nof Armida.--Book xvi.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[61] At a spring called the Fountain of Thirst, or the\nFountain of the Fays, \"corruptly called 'La Font des _Sees'_\" (says a\nwriter in 1698), and every year, in the month of May, a fair is held\nin the neighbouring mead, when the pastrycooks sell figures of women\n'_bien coiff\u00e9es,_' called 'Merlusines.'\n\n\n\n\nMADAME LEPRINCE DE BEAUMONT.\n\n\nJEANNE LEPRINCE DE BEAUMONT was born at Rouen, in 1711, and commenced\nher literary career in 1748, by the production of a romance, called\n_La Triomphe de la V\u00e9rit\u00e9_; shortly after which she came to England,\nand resided in London for a considerable time, occupying herself as\na governess, and in writing works for the instruction as well as the\namusement of youth. That which acquired the most popularity was _Le\nMagazin des Enfans_, in which appeared her abridgment of _Beauty and\nthe Beast_, and her original _Fairy Tales_. She was twice married. Her\nfirst was an unfortunate union, annulled almost immediately afterwards.\nHer second marriage took place in England, but to a Frenchman; and in\n1762 she returned to France for the benefit of her native air. In 1768,\nshe purchased a small estate, called Chenavoi, and died in 1780. Her\nmiscellaneous works amount to seventy volumes; but even _Le Magazin des\nEnfans_ is scarcely remembered in the present day, and the four short\nfairy tales which terminate this volume are, with the abridgment of\n_Beauty and the Beast_, the only effusions by which she is popularly\nknown in England. The best of them is\n\n\nPRINCE D\u00c9SIR AND PRINCESS MIGNONE.\n\nIt is more like one of the good old Breton stories--pleasant, short,\nand with a sound moral.\n\n\nPRINCE CH\u00c9RI,\n\nCorrupted into \"Prince Cherry\" in our children's books, exhibits\nthe influence of the importations from the East. But that it has so\nmanifest a moral, it might pass for a French alteration of an Oriental\ntale. The names of Suliman and Z\u00e9lie would encourage the suspicion.\n\n\nTHE WIDOW AND HER TWO DAUGHTERS.\n\n_La Veuve et ses Deux Filles_ is better known by the title of _Blanche\nand Vermillion_, under which it has been frequently printed, and was\nalso produced on the French stage by Mons. Florian, in March, 1781.\nThe moral of the story is declared by the Fairy to be that excessively\ntrite and common-place axiom, that happiness consists in content, or,\nin the words of the author, the possession of things only that are\nnecessary without wishing for more; but the author forgot to show us\nthat Blanche was discontented. It does not appear that she wished for\nsuperfluities, or to be a \"great Queen,\" or that such an idea ever\nentered her head till the Fairy promised her she should become one,\n\"not to reward,\" but \"to punish,\" her for begrudging to give away\nher plums. Poor Blanche is therefore made an _unhappy_ queen; her\nlow birth renders her an object of contempt at Court; the King is a\nworthless person, who neglects the innocent girl his passion induced\nhim to place upon his throne, and who is the mother of his children;\nand at length the miserable wife exclaims that \"happiness is not to\nbe found in magnificent palaces but in the innocent occupations of\nthe country.\" Now this is foolish--it is worse, for it is false and\ninjurious. There is as much happiness in palaces and on thrones, thank\nGod, as there is in cottages. The occupations of a virtuous sovereign\nare as innocent as those of a husbandman, while the power to do good,\nexisting with the will, must make the balance of happiness greatly in\nfavour of the former. The cares of State are burdensome enough, no\ndoubt, and the more conscientious the monarch, the weightier the sense\nof responsibility; but has the countryman no cares, no sorrows, no\n_vices_? The legal occupations of all classes are \"innocent.\" Is it\nonly kings and nobles who yield to temptations or indulge in the evil\npropensities of our common nature? There has been too much of this\nfallacy infused into what are called moral stories, and at the risk of\nbeing accused of breaking a butterfly on the wheel, I have singled out\nthis particular instance, as _Blanche and Vermillion_ is to be found\nin almost every child's story-book. That the author's intention was\nlaudable, I do not doubt; but to read a wholesome lesson, she should\nhave shown Blanche to have been discontented with the lot assigned to\nher by Providence, pining to mix in society for which she was neither\nfitted by birth nor education, and dreaming that happiness consisted\nsolely in rank, wealth, and luxury. The moral should have been, not\nthat such possessions were incompatible with virtue and happiness, but\nthat their owners were not exempted from the frailties and sufferings\nof humanity, and that unequal marriages were rarely fortunate ones.\nAll this, it will be said, she might mean, but it is not evident;\nand the only impression made upon a child's mind by this story, if\nany impression can be made by it whatever, is the very absurd and\nobjectionable one, that all kings and queens are wicked and unhappy,\nand all farmers and dairy-maids virtuous and contented.\n\n\nPRINCE FATAL AND PRINCE FORTUN\u00c9.\n\nThis is another of the moral Fairy Tales of Madame de Beaumont, and, as\n_Fatal and Fortun\u00e9_, a great favourite with the compilers of children's\nstory-books. It is healthier in tone than the preceding: the value of\nadversity is difficult to impress on a young mind, and it is pointed\nout in this little tale as well, perhaps, as it could be; but there\nis one observation I must venture to make in reference to a point of\ntaste. The writers of the old Fairy Tales never mix up the Almighty\nwith fairies and enchanters. The superior powers are invariably the\nmythological divinities of ancient Greece and Rome. Their heroes and\nheroines pray to \"the gods,\" not to \"God.\" The introduction of the\nsacred name is, I am well aware, too frequent in familiar French\nconversation, to render it a matter of criticism in the original\nlanguage; and I fully acquit Madame de Beaumont of any intentional\nirreverence; but it is a fact worthy of remark, that in an age and at\na Court which are described as particularly licentious, the writers\nfor youth or entertainment carefully abstained from an unnecessary\nprofanity of which they had examples enough in the older fabliaux and\nromances, not only of their own country, but throughout Europe; and\nthat although the majority of these authors were in the highest ranks\nof society--members of the circle that surrounded the throne of one of\nthe most despotic monarchs in the civilized world--they never spared\nthe foibles or the crimes of princes, or the hypocrisy and treachery of\ntheir parasites.\n\nThe fearless frankness, indeed, with which they satirized the follies\nand inveighed against the vices of the great, is as honourable to\nthem as their perfect freedom from that questionable morality which\nwould deny in any class the existence of virtue and the enjoyment\nof happiness founded upon it. Madame de Beaumont's admission that\nsuch may be the case concludes her story of _Fatal and Fortun\u00e9_ more\nsatisfactorily than her insinuation to the contrary does that of _The\nWidow and her Two Daughters_.\n\nSo much has been said in this Appendix about _Peau d'Ane_ and\n_L'Adroite Princesse_, that although, as in the case of _Prince\nMarcassin_ and _Le Dauphin_, in my former volume, I have not included\nthem in the body of the work, I think it may be as well, as in the\nabove instance, to give in this place an analysis of their plots, they\nbeing undoubtedly two of the oldest fairy tales of their class on\nrecord.\n\n\nPEAU D'ANE.\n\nA Princess, in order to escape the persecution of the King, her father,\non a point of conscience, consults a fairy, who is her godmother,\nand by her advice successively requests her father to give her three\ndresses--the first of the colour of the sky, the second of the colour\nof the moon, and the third of the colour of the sun, believing he will\nbe unable to fulfil his promises. He succeeds, however, in procuring\nfor her the three dresses; and she is then instructed to ask him for\nthe skin of a marvellous ass in the royal stables, which supplies the\nKing daily with an ample quantity of gold coin, under the impression\nthat his Majesty will never consent to such a sacrifice. The infatuated\nMonarch, however, does cause the ass to be killed and flayed, and the\nPrincess, on the receipt of the skin she has requested, is reduced to\nflight. The Fairy tells her to put the three fine dresses and all her\njewellery, &c. in a large trunk, which by magical power is to follow\nher underground, and appear whenever she needs it; and begriming\nher face and hands, and wrapping herself up in the ass's skin, the\nPrincess escapes from the palace, and travels into the dominions of\na neighbouring monarch. She there obtains employment in a farm as\na scullion and keeper of the pigs and poultry, her only pleasure\nconsisting in occasionally locking herself up in her miserable room,\nand putting on her fine dresses and jewellery, which appear at her\nwish, as the Fairy promised her.\n\nThe son of the King of this country happens to visit this farm\noccasionally as he returns from hunting, and one day peeps through the\nkeyhole of the door, and sees Peau d'Ane (as the Princess is called,\nfrom the only dress she wears in public) arrayed in one of her richest\nrobes. He is dazzled with her beauty, and believing her to be some\ndivinity, he is afraid to burst open the door, and returns to the\npalace, where he falls perfectly love-sick, refusing to eat, drink,\nor take any amusement. He inquires who lives in that wretched room\nat the farm, and is told an ugly, dirty, kitchen wench, called Peau\nd'Ane, for the reason aforesaid. He declares that nothing can cure him\nbut a cake made by her hands. After all sorts of expostulations, they\nyield to his wishes, and Peau d'Ane is ordered to make a cake for the\nPrince. She has seen him on his visits to the farm, and is equally in\nlove with him. She makes the cake, and drops, by accident or design,\na magnificent emerald ring into it. The Prince devours the cake, and\nfinds the ring. He immediately declares that he will marry no one but\nthe woman who owns that ring. On this determination being made public,\nall the unmarried ladies in the Court and kingdom endeavour to fit on\nthe ring, but it is too small for any one to pretend to the ownership.\nAt length Peau d'Ane is sent for at the Prince's wish, and dropping\nher hideous ass's skin, appears in magnificent attire, and places the\nring easily on her finger. Everybody is astonished, the Prince and his\nparents delighted, and the nuptials take place, being honoured by the\npresence of Kings and Fairies from all quarters, and specially by the\nfather of the Princess, who has recovered from his infatuation.\n\nThis story, founded originally on the legend of St. Dipne, was a\nfavourite in France from an exceedingly early period, and was versified\nby Perrault, and published with _Les Souhaits Ridicules_, as I have\nalready stated, in 1694. He alludes to the original nursery tale in his\n_Parallele des Anciens et des Modernes_, 1689, in which he makes the\npartisan of the ancients say, \"Les fables Milesiennes sont si pu\u00e9riles,\nque c'est leur faire assez d'honneur que de leur opposer nos Contes de\n_Peau d'Ane_ et de _la M\u00e8re l'Oye_.\" The prose version of this tale was\nnot published until many years after his death, and is supposed by\nBaron Walken\u00e4er not to have been his composition; and I think there is\na point unnoticed by the Baron which supports that opinion. The story\nis dedicated to Mademoiselle Eleanore de Lubert.[62] Now, if this be\nMademoiselle de Lubert, author of _La Princesse Camion_, &c., she was\nnot born till some years after the death of Perrault; and as in the\ndedication we find the lines\n\n    \"Quoique vous soyez \u00e0 l'aurore,\n    Du printemps de vos jeunes ans,\"\n\nthe dedication itself could not have been written much before 1720,\nMademoiselle de Lubert having been born about 1710.\n\nThere is another story in the _Contes ou Joyeux Devises de Bonaventure\nDesperiers_, Novel 130, of a young girl named \"Peau d'Ane,\" and \"how\nshe got married by the means furnished her by the Ants.\" A gentleman\nfell in love with a merchant's daughter, named Pernette. The father\nand mother, not daring flatly to refuse their consent, attached to it\nwhat they considered an impossible condition--namely, that for a given\nperiod previous to her marriage the girl should wear no other apparel\nthan the skin of an ass. Pernette, returning the gentleman's affection,\nwas not to be discouraged by this obstacle, and cheerfully wore the\nskin of an ass for the appointed time. Foiled in this matter, they\nset their wits to work to invent something more impracticable. They\ninsisted that she should lick up, grain by grain, a bushel of barley,\nwhich they spilt for that purpose on the ground. Nothing daunted, she\napplied herself to this task; but the ants repaired to the same spot,\nand took away all the barley by degrees, without being noticed, so that\nit appeared as if Pernette had done it; and her parents considering\nfurther opposition useless, the girl obtained her husband. The story\nconcludes with the assertion that \"Vray est que tant quelle vesquit le\nsobriquet de Peau d'Ane lui demeura.\"\n\nThere is nothing whatever in this story to remind one of the last,\nbeyond the simple circumstance of the skin; nor have we any clue as to\nwhich may be the oldest: but both were called _Peau d'Ane_, and it may\nbe just possible that one furnished a hint for the other, or, indeed,\nthat there was a collection of stories so entitled; for La Porte,\nthe valet of Louis XIV., tells us, in his _M\u00e9moires_, that when that\nmonarch was still a child, but had passed from the hands of females\ninto those of men, he could not go to sleep \"parcequ'on ne lui contait\nplus _les contes_ de Peau d'Ane ainsi que les femmes qui le gardaient\navaient coutume de le faire.\"\n\n\nL'ADROITE PRINCESSE; OU, LES AVENTURES DE FINETTE.\n\nA King departing for the Crusades commits to a Fairy the charge of\nhis three daughters--Nonchalante, Babillarde, and Finette, names\ndescriptive of their characters. They are shut up in a tower without a\ndoor, and furnished with three enchanted distaffs of glass, which they\nare told will break on the commission of any indiscretion. They were\nto be provided with everything they might properly require by means of\na basket let up and down by a crane and pulley fixed on the top of the\ntower. The two eldest Princesses soon become weary of solitude, and\none day pull up in the basket an old beggar woman, Nonchalante hoping\nshe will be her servant, and Babillarde being anxious to have somebody\nelse to talk to. The beggar woman proves to be a Prince disguised, the\nson of a neighbouring King who is a bitter enemy of the father of the\nthree Princesses, and who has had recourse to this expedient in order\nto revenge himself for some insult or injury he has sustained. By\nflattering the foibles of the two Princesses who introduced him into\nthe tower, he succeeds in causing them to break both their distaffs,\nbut all his artifices are foiled by Finette (L'Adroite Princesse), who\ngets rid of him by making him fall through a trap door into the ditch\nunder the tower. Enraged at his defeat, he has recourse to another\nscheme, and succeeds in inducing Finette to descend in the basket\nto procure assistance for her sisters, who are suffering from the\nconsequences of their indiscretions. He seizes Finette, and is about to\nhave her rolled down a precipice in a tub filled with spikes, when she\nadroitly flings him into it, and he suffers the fate he had projected\nfor the Princess. Mortally hurt, he bequeaths his vengeance to his\nbrother, who swears to him that he will marry Finette, and murder\nher on the night of his nuptials. She, however, places a figure of\nstraw in the bed, which the Prince unwillingly stabs, and is only too\ndelighted to find he is not guilty of murdering a woman he loves, and\nwho becomes his happy Queen.\n\nThis story was not published till 1742, when it was printed as\nPerrault's, although it was well known that Mademoiselle Lheritier,\nwho had read Perrault's _Histoires du Temps Pass\u00e9_ in manuscript, had\nconceived from them the idea of trying her hand at the same sort of\ncomposition, and had actually published, in 1695-6, this very story,\nunder the title of _Les Aventures de Finette_ in her _\u0152uvres\nMesl\u00e9es_, with a letter to the daughter of Perrault.\n\nSpeaking of that very story she says--\"vous savez que dans le _Conte\nde Finette_, les deux s\u0153urs sont tr\u00e8s eloign\u00e9es d'\u00eatre aussi\nvertueuses que je les fais, on ne parle point de mariage: ce sont deux\nindign\u00e9s personnes de qui on raconte des faiblesses odieuses avec les\ncirconstances choquantes;\" and she also observes, \"j'ai pour moi la\ntradition qui met ce Conte de _Finette_; au Temps des Croisades.\"\n\nThere cannot surely be more evidence required to refute the assertion\nof Mr. Dunlop, that _L'Adroite Princesse_ (be it written by Perrault or\nMademoiselle Lheritier) is taken from the _Pentamerone_, with little\nvariation of machinery or incident. The story he alludes to is the\nfourth of the third day, and is entitled _Sapia Liccarda_. There is\nno such name as Finette in it, and it is well known, independently of\nMademoiselle Lheritier's declaration, that _Le Conte de Finette_ was\none of the oldest of the French nursery tales.\n\nNor can we desire clearer evidence of the way in which these stories\nwere written than that which is afforded to us by the repeated\nacknowledgments of Mademoiselle Lheritier:--\n\n    \"Ce que je viens de vous dire\n    Est toujours au fond bien na\u00efvement\n    Tel qu'on ma cont\u00e9 quand j'etais enfant.\"\n\nAnd, again,--\n\n    \"Cent fois ma nourrice on ma mie\n    M'ont fait ce beau recit pres des tissons\n    Je n'ai fait qu'adjouter un peu de broderie.\"\n\nLet any one compare these lines with those of the concluding portion of\nthe story of _L'Adroite Princesse_ commencing \"Voila Madame,\" &c., and\nthey must be struck by the singular resemblance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere will be many general readers, and perhaps some critics, who\nmay think I have been unnecessarily minute in my notes and humble\nattempts at illustration; but whilst I feel that the fairy tales I have\nselected contain in themselves nothing that may not afford innocent\nentertainment to children, I certainly hope that the little information\nI have been able to collect respecting some hitherto obscure and\ndisputed points may give both this and the book that preceded it an\ninterest in the eyes of elder readers, who may meet, where they least\nexpect it, some fact or suggestion, trifling in itself, but furnishing\na clue to more important matter.\n\nMy principal object has been, however, in this volume, to disabuse\nthe minds of those who have taken for granted the assertions of our\nhistorians of fiction concerning the original sources from whence\nPerrault and Madame d'Aulnoy in particular derived the plots of their\nfairy tales--assertions which I confess I had not thought necessary to\nnotice until, in a kind and complimentary review of my former volume,\nit was publicly regretted as an omission. I trust I have now made it\nperfectly clear that whether or not the writers of those tales were\ncognizant of the existence in the collections of Straparola and Basile\nof some half-dozen meagre and garbled versions of stories told for ages\nin all the tongues of Europe and Asia, that the real foundation of\nthose of Perrault were the old Breton _Contes de ma M\u00e8re l'Oye_, which\nin company\n\n    \"De Peau d'Ane et de Fier \u00e0 bras\n    Et de cent autres vieux fatras,\"\n\nhe had heard in his own nursery, and with which Louis XIV. had\nbeen rocked to sleep when a child, as well as all the rest of the\nchildren in his dominions; and that Madame d'Aulnoy, when not indebted\nto similar recollections, drew upon her own fertile and lively\nimagination, introducing occasionally an incident from one of the old\nTrouv\u00e8res of Languedoc, or some of those Oriental stories which were\ncirculated in manuscript long before their publication by Galland, or\npicked up by herself during her residence in Spain from the Moorish\nand Turkish slaves around her, nay, from her own little servant Zayde,\nwho, though she could speak no language but her own at the time her\nmistress so pleasantly describes her, might have eventually acquired\nsufficient French or Spanish for such a purpose.\n\nHer account of this child is so interesting that I shall not apologise\nfor quoting it:--\n\n     \"They have here great numbers of slaves who are bought and sold\n     at high prices. They are Moors and Turks, some of them worth four\n     or five hundred crowns a piece.... You are extremely well served\n     by these unhappy wretches, they are far more diligent, laborious,\n     and humble than other servants.... I have one that is not above\n     nine years old. She is as black as jet, and would be reckoned in\n     her own country a wonderful beauty, for her nose is quite flat,\n     her lips prodigiously thick, her eyes of a red and white colour,\n     and her teeth admirable in Europe as well as in Africa. She\n     understands not a word of any language than her own. Her name is\n     Zayde; we have got her baptized.... Those who sold her to me told\n     me she was a girl of quality; and the poor child will come often\n     and fall down on her knees before me, clasp her hands, cry, and\n     point towards her country. I would willingly send her thither if\n     she could there be a Christian; but this impossibility obliges me\n     to keep her. _I would fain understand her, for I believe her to\n     be intelligent_--all her actions show it. She dances after her\n     fashion, and so pleasantly that she affords us much entertainment.\n     I make her wear white patches, with which she is mightily taken.\n     She is dressed as they are at Morocco, that is, in a short gown\n     almost without any plaits, large shift sleeves of fine cloth\n     striped with different colours like those of our Bohemians and\n     gipseys. A pair of stays made of merely a strip of crimson velvet\n     on a gold ground, and fastened at the sides with silver buckles\n     and buttons, and a mantle of exceedingly fine woollen stuff, very\n     long and very large, in which she wraps herself, and with one\n     corner of it covers her head.\n\n     \"This dress is very handsome; her short hair, which looks like\n     wool, is cut in several places, on each side like a half-moon,\n     on the crown in a circle, and in front like a heart. She cost\n     me twenty pistoles. My daughter has made her governess of her\n     Marmoset, the little monkey given to her by the Archbishop of\n     Burgos. I assure you Zayde and the Marmoset are capitally matched,\n     and understand each other extremely well.\"--_Relation du Voyage en\n     Espagne._\n\nWith this characteristic and suggestive extract from a book deserving\nto be better known, I leave a subject to which it is not likely I shall\nreturn in print, though it will never cease to interest me in the study.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[62] In the _Cabinet des F\u00e9es_, 1785, it is printed \"de\nHuber,\" quite a different name; but the edition of the works of\nPerrault, 1826, by M. Collin de Plancy, is more carefully printed, and\nthere it is distinctly de Lubert.\n\n\n\n\n                                             LONDON: FARRINGDON STREET.\n                                                 _December_, 1857.\n\n                          GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & CO.'S\n\n                        New List of Illustrated Books\n\n                           SUITABLE FOR PRESENTS.\n\n\n                  THE FAVOURITE GIFT BOOKS OF THE SEASON.\n\n  Price =21=s., elegantly bound, gilt edges, with Steel Plates from Birket\n                              Foster's designs,\n\nTHE UPPER RHINE, from Mayenz to the Lake of Constanz. Its\nPicturesque Scenery and Historical Associations. 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To each chapter is appended a series\n of questions, by means of which the tutor will readily be enabled to\n examine the pupil as to the impressions the facts have made on his\n memory.\"\n\n \u2042 Is placed on the list of School Books of  the Educational Committee\n    of the Privy Council.\n\n\n\n\n=History.=\n\n          New Edition, brought down to the Peace of Paris, 1856.\n\n            In 4 vols. 8vo. price \u00a3=1= =10=s. cloth lettered.\n\nRUSSELL'S MODERN EUROPE, with a View of the Progress of Society from\nthe Rise of the Modern Kingdoms. New Edition, continued to the Peace of\nParis, 1856, to which is added a compendious Index compiled expressly\nfor this Edition.\n\nThe FOURTH VOLUME, from the year 1802 to 1856, is sold separately,\nprice 10s. 6d.; it forms the best handbook of General History for\nthe last half-century that can be had. All the Candidates for the\nGovernment Civil Service are examined in \"Russell's Modern Europe,\" as\nto their knowledge of General History.\n\n\n    In 2 vols, crown 8vo, cloth, price =5=s., or in 1 vol. cloth gilt,\n                               =5=s. =6=d.\n\nTHE HISTORY OF EXTRAORDINARY POPULAR DELUSIONS. By CHARLES MACKAY,\nLL.D. The Third Edition. Illustrated with One Hundred and Twenty\nEngravings, from scarce Prints and other authentic sources.\n\nAmong which will be found the following interesting subjects:--The\nSOUTH SEA BUBBLE, The TULIPOMANIA, RELICS, MODERN PROPHECIES,\nDUELS and ORDEALS, LOVE OF THE MARVELLOUS, The O. P. MANIA, The\nCRUSADES, The WITCH MANIA, The SLOW POISONERS, HAUNTED HOUSES, The\nALCHYMISTS,--PRETENDED ANTIQUITY OF THE ART, AVICENNA, ALBERTUS MAGNUS,\nTHOMAS AQUINAS, RAYMOND LULLI, ROGER BACON, POPE JOHN XXII., CORNELIUS\nAGRIPPA, PARACELSUS, DR. DEE and EDWARD KELLY, The COSMOPOLITE,\nSENDIVOGIUS, The ROSICRUCIANS, Alchymical Writers of the Seventeenth\nCentury, DE LISLE, ALBERT ALUYS, COUNT DE ST. GERMAINS, CAGLIOSTRO,\nPresent State of the Sciences, &c.--FORTUNE-TELLING, The MAGNETISERS,\n&c.\n\n \"These volumes will captivate the attention of readers who, according\n to their various tempers, feel either inclined to laugh at or sigh\n over the follies of mankind.\"--_Times._\n\n\n             In 1 vol. post 8vo, price =5=s. cloth lettered.\n\nBONNECHOSE'S HISTORY OF FRANCE. The first English Edition. Translated\nby W. ROBSON, Esq., Translator of Michaud's \"History of the Crusades,\"\n&c. With Illustrations and Index.\n\n \"It is a cleverly written volume, the translation also being easy and\n flowing; and there is no English manual of French history at once so\n portable and authentic as this.\"--_The Guardian._\n\n\n             In 1 vol. post 8vo, price =5=s. cloth lettered.\n\nFELICE'S HISTORY OF THE PROTESTANTS OF FRANCE, from the Commencement of\nthe Reformation to the Present Time. Translated from the Revised and\nCorrected Edition.\n\n \"We recommend this work to our readers as one of the most interesting\n of Religious History that we have met with after Merle d'Aubign\u00e9's\n 'Reformation;' and perhaps, to the reading public generally, more\n interesting and more novel than even that very popular work.\"--_Atlas._\n\n\n\n\n=History.=\n\n            In 1 vol. royal 8vo, price =6=s. =6=d. cloth extra.\n\nHISTORY OF THE POPES. By LEOPOLD RANKE. Including their Church and\nState, the Re-organization of the Inquisition, the Rise, Progress,\nand Consolidation of the Jesuits, and the means taken to effect the\nCounter-reformation in Germany, to revive Romanism in France, and to\nsuppress Protestant Principles in the South of Europe. Translated from\nthe last edition of the German by WALTER K. KELLY, of Trinity College,\nDublin.\n\n \"This translation of Ranke we consider to be very superior to any\n other in the English language.\"--_Dublin Review._\n\n\n                 In small post 8vo, price =5=s. cloth extra.\n\nEMBASSIES AND FOREIGN COURTS. A History of Diplomacy. By THE ROVING\nENGLISHMAN. The Second Edition.\n\n \"The 'Roving Englishman' is a satirical chronicler. His style is not\n less lively than severe--not subtle enough for irony, but caustic,\n free, and full of earnest meaning. This volume is also an admirable\n manual, skilfully adapted to the purpose of diffusing a general\n knowledge of history and the working of diplomacy.\"_--The Athen\u00e6um._\n\n\n              In small post 8vo, price =5=s. cloth extra, gilt.\n\nPICTURES FROM THE BATTLE FIELDS. By THE ROVING ENGLISHMAN. The Third\nEdition, with Illustrations from Sketches taken on the spot, and\nChapters respecting--\n\n  Scutari and its      The Commissariat      The Bashi-Bazouk.\n    Hospitals.           again.              Russian Officers and\n  Miss Nightingale.    A Camp Dinner.          Soldiers.\n  Balaklava.           The Heights before    The French Officer.\n  A Snow Storm.          Sebastopol.         The Zouave.\n\n \"Who is unfamiliar with those brilliant little sketches of\n travel--particularly the pictures of Turkish life and manners--from\n the pen of the 'Roving Englishman,' that were, week after week, the\n very tit-bits of 'Household Words?'--Who did not hail their collection\n into a companionable-sized volume?--and who will not thank our\n truly 'fast' friend--the friend of almost everything and everybody\n but foreign noodles--the 'Roving Englishman,' for this new book of\n sketches?\"\n\n\n      In fcap. 8vo, price =1=s. =8=d. strongly bound, or in cloth gilt,\n       =2=s., or with the Questions and Coloured Map, red sheep, =3=s.\n\nLANDMARKS OF THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By the Rev. JAMES WHITE. (The\nTwenty-second Thousand.)\n\n \"We hold this to be a pattern volume of cheap literature. It is so\n written that it cannot fail to amuse and enlighten the more ignorant;\n yet it is a book that may be read with pleasure and profit, too, by\n the most polished scholar. In a word, excellent gifts are applied\n to the advantage of the people--a poetical instinct and a full\n knowledge of English History. It has nothing about it of common-place\n compilation. It is the work of a man of remarkable ability, having\n as such a style of its own, and a grace that cannot fail to exercise\n its refining influence upon uneducated people. The amount of solid\n information it compresses in a small compass excites in the reader's\n mind repeated surprise.\"--_The Examiner._\n\n \u2042 Is placed on the list of School Books of the Educational Committee\n    of the Privy Council.\n\n\n\n\n                                BIOGRAPHY.\n\n\n   In 4 vols, crown 8vo, price =10=s., or in 2 vols, cloth gilt, =10=s.\n\nBOSWELL'S LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, with numerous Portraits, Views, and\nCharacteristic Designs, engraved from authentic sources.\n\n \"Homer is not more decidedly the first of heroic poets, Shakspeare\n is not more decidedly the first of dramatists, Demosthenes is not\n more decidedly the first of orators, than Boswell is the first of\n biographers. Many of the greatest men that have ever lived have\n written biography. Boswell was one of the smallest men that ever\n lived, and he has beaten them all. His was talent, and uncommon\n talent, and to Jemmy Boswell we indeed owe many hours of supreme\n delight.\"--_Macaulay._\n\n\n           In crown 8vo, price =2=s. =6=d. cloth extra, gilt.\n\nTHE LIFE, PUBLIC AND DOMESTIC, OF THE RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE. By PETER\nBURKE, Esq. (of the Inner Temple and the Northern Circuit). Profusely\nillustrated with Portraits, Scenes of Events, and Landscape Views,\nrelating to the great Orator and the other noted persons of his time\nand areer.\n\n \"This volume attempts to relate the biography of Edmund Burke as a\n private person and a public character in an easily intelligible shape.\n The author's aim has been to furnish a plain and popular biography, in\n which he trusts he has succeeded.\"\n\n\n         In fcap. 8vo, =3=s. boards, or =3=s. =6=d. cloth gilt.\n\nELLISTON'S LIFE and ENTERPRISES. By GEORGE RAYMOND. Illustrated with\nPortrait and Engravings on steel, from designs by Phiz, Cruikshank, &c.\n\n \"This is a very entertaining memoir of one of the most gentlemanly,\n accomplished, and versatile actors who adorned the English stage.\n The life of R. W. Elliston, unlike that of the majority of his\n professional brethren, affords ample materials for a readable book,\n and this volume presents indubitable testimony in proof of that\n fact.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n\n           In 1 vol. crown 8vo, price =2=s. =6=d. cloth extra.\n\nEXTRAORDINARY MEN: their Boyhood and Early Youth. By WILLIAM RUSSELL,\nEsq. The Sixth Edition, illustrated with 50 Engravings of Portraits,\nBirthplaces, Incidents, &c. &c.\n\n \"What a title to interest the youth of this nation! It teaches in\n every page lessons of prudence, frugality, industry, and perseverance;\n and how difficulties, moral and physical, have been successfully\n overcome.\"\n\n\n        In 1 vol. crown 8vo, price =2=s. =6=d. cloth extra, gilt.\n\nExtraordinary women: their Girlhood and Early Years. By WILLIAM\nRUSSELL, Esq. Illustrated with numerous Engravings designed and\nexecuted by Messrs. Dalziel.\n\nThis volume contains the lives of the Empress Josephine, Christina\nQueen of Sweden, Catherine Empress of Russia, Mrs. Fry, Madame Roland,\nMrs. Hutchinson, Isabella of Castile, Marie Antoinette, Lady Stanhope,\nMadame de Genlis, Mrs. Opie, &c. &c.\n\n\n           LONDON: GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's notes:\n\nDifferences in accents/spelling are results of the usage of English and\nFrench texts (e.g. 'extreme' and 'extr\u00eame').\n\nText in italics is marked as  _ ... _\nBold text is marked as  = ... =\n\nObvious typographical errors have been silently corrected, but other\nvariations in spelling and punctuation remain unchanged.","title":"Four and Twenty Fairy Tales: Selected from Those of Perrault, and Other Popular Writers","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":217454}