Chapter XX: Part 20

Cornue (that was her name) reasoned thus in transporting the handsome Prince to her dwelling, which was in the Desert where the old man and his wife had brought up the young Lionette for the last four years. Cornue had built herself a charming palace upon the summit of one of the mountains, but it was inaccessible to all human beings, in consequence of the clouds with which it was continually surrounded. The charms of life, its amusements, both rational and frivolous, were all united there. This palace was of immense extent, although formed of one single opal, so transparent and so beautiful that through the walls one might see a grain of millet at the end of the garden, which was worthy of so magnificent a palace, from its groves, terraces, parterres, and fountains.

The tasteful Cornue had not spared anything, even in her dress, for when, placing the Prince in the vestibule of her palace, she made herself visible to him, she had enveloped her horn in a green velvet case, covered with diamonds; her hair, which was rather grey, was powdered white,[41] and tied with green _moulinet_ bows, in the centre of each of which sparkled a large diamond; and her dress, of flesh-colour and silver, showed her form so truly, that one could perceive the Graces had striven among themselves which should give the finishing touch to it.

The Prince was surprised at this apparition. She kissed his hand, and asked his forgiveness for taking him away from his retirement without his permission. "If I can avoid being your king," said he, with an air which showed that he was not alarmed at the manner in which he had been conducted thither, "I should be very well contented, for the fear of ascending the throne made me desirous of leaving my kingdom, and you have done me a favour in taking me away from it;--but I should like to know," added he, quickly, "why you wear so pointed a head-dress, and why your dress is of so peculiar a colour?" "We excuse such childish questions at your age," said the Fairy, slightly blushing; "you will be ashamed of them some day;--but let us enter the palace, and you will find something to occupy your attention more agreeably."

She then gave him her hand, and they passed into a saloon in keeping with the beauty of the rest of the palace. A hundred black slaves were arranged in two files, through which the Prince and the Fairy proceeded to the centre. It was sufficiently light to see the rarities which ornamented this beautiful place; statues, sculptured marbles, porcelain, furniture, were all admired with the taste of a connoisseur by the young Prince. The slave opened the door of a magnificent gallery, filled with charts, maps of the world, instruments of geometry, models of the most beautiful cities in Asia, Europe, and Africa; of palaces where the men and women of each nation were dressed in their national costumes, and by the Fairy's skill they moved hither and thither, spoke in their own language, and held conversations according to their position. This amused the Prince for a considerable time. He requested the Fairy to allow him to remain in that gallery a little longer than she seemed inclined to do.

He made the slaves who accompanied him explain what this all meant; he bade them repeat it, and was quite enchanted. He recognised the Fortunate Islands; he saw his tutors seeking for him, and who appeared in despair at not finding him--that touched his heart with pity. The Fairy at length withdrew him from this scene, that he might not witness the catastrophe. She amused him with other objects.

Some islands surrounded by the sea, upon another model, afforded him great entertainment. Vessels filled with passengers executed some wonderful evolutions; then there was a sea-fight, followed by a storm, which dispersed the ships and sank several of them. This terminated the diversions of this day. The Fairy then proposed supper, after which an opera was represented; this was succeeded by a ball, and the Prince danced with the Fairy, and with the nymphs in the Fairy's train, and at last six slaves conducted him to a handsome apartment, in which he retired to rest.

The next and following days were passed in conversations, sometimes serious, sometimes mirthful; the slaves had orders to cultivate his taste for the arts while amusing him, to which purpose he lent himself readily. He was already accustomed to walk in a second gallery, which formed a superb arsenal; he heard them talk of arms and of war with pleasure; he almost wished to witness a battle, and felt ashamed he had ever thought otherwise. The slaves formed themselves into battalions, he placed himself at their head, he enjoyed his triumph in a sham fight, he invented stratagems, he sought for glory everywhere; he no longer feared to be a king. The gallery of models had displayed to him the pleasures of royalty; he passed three hours each day in it, and took lessons from the ablest politicians. The cabinet secrets of all the Courts in the universe were no secrets to him.

There was a model of the whole globe in that gallery, and what art pervaded that grand work! Not only all the kingdoms and their various provinces, to the smallest habitation, were represented; but every mortal upon the face of the earth was seen in pursuit of his vocation. All spoke their own language, you heard them, you saw them,--the most secret actions were displayed therein: the ocean and its vessels, rivers, lakes, streamlets, deserts, even yet undiscovered countries,--nothing was hidden from the learned Cornue. All was to be found in her model. There was wherewithal to amuse one during the longest life that ever was known.

The Prince was fascinated by this wonderful work of art; he studied it for a long time; he could with difficulty tear himself from it; nor did he consent to do so till the Fairy assured him that this gallery forming a portion of his suite of apartments, he might visit it whenever he wished.

He left it at length to enjoy new pleasures--an opera, a supper, followed by a magnificent ball, in which the fairies of Cornue's Court distinguished themselves in dancing, notwithstanding they were ugly and old, for their mistress took care not to incur the reproach of being the least handsome person in the Palace; and the designs she had upon the heart of the young Prince would not admit of her neglecting anything that would bring them to bear.

His education was entrusted to six fairies, who led him each morning into the gallery of the globe for three hours; they explained the various interests of Princes, he learned their languages, he heard and saw the effect of their politics, their battles by land and sea, which displayed to him the ability of ministers and of generals. Already he was able to form sound opinions, and to speak of things with the knowledge acquired from experience. His noble mind developed itself, he burned with a desire for glory, he blushed at having been afraid of it. He also appreciated the pleasures of royalty, he began to find a satisfaction in being master, but he did not at all covet the soft and effeminate life which he perceived in the seraglios of the sovereigns of Persia and Constantinople; he preferred those kings who reigned absolutely over their subjects, with a certainty that they would shed their blood to preserve theirs. Insensibly he became the most accomplished Prince living. He was not ignorant upon any point; his fine intellect assisting his slight experience, he evinced in everything the greatest judgment and discernment. "But where can one see this land, and the inhabitants, that I observe in my model?" said he sometimes to Cornue. "I will show you some day," answered she; "it is not time yet." That would vex him; he was desirous of appearing of some consequence himself in this fine plan of the universe, he was annoyed at not seeing himself in it. This caused him many reflections, but as they only sprang from his brain, they did not distress him much--those suggested by the heart, more interesting, he knew nothing of yet.

The Fairy did not fear that the beauties whom he saw in the model would awake in him any emotions contrary to her wishes; they were so exceedingly small, that he could but take them for pretty little puppets, the largest figure, of a man even, not being taller than one's thumb. His great amusement was the opera and comedy; he went to them very often: the little figures acted wonderfully well, and as he had a great appreciation of genius, he attended all orations of the Academy,[42] and commented upon them with great sagacity.

Until he was eighteen years old, this gallery continued to be his greatest pleasure; in fact, he knew no other. At that age he began to wish to know the people whose portraits he saw; the Fairy, desirous to please him, dared not oppose him too much; she put him off with promises, but feared he would escape her. "I hunt in your park," he said; "I walk in it; I always see the same things, it tires me; I should like sometimes to see something different." "Ah! truly," said the Fairy, "you have well preserved the faults of human kind. Miserable state of men! Can they be perfectly happy?--they cannot believe themselves to be so, they sigh for what they do not possess, and when they have obtained it they are disgusted with it. Ah! what have you to wish for here? do you not reign here? are you not the master? Do you fear treachery here, false friends, or bad advisers? We live but to please you; you are all-powerful in this Palace--you command; we obey you. What being could be grander and happier than you are?"

The Prince bent his head at the enumeration of all the happiness the Fairy had surrounded him with, and found that he still desired more. He said nothing, but his uneasiness, his agitation, his weariness, appeared in spite of him in all his actions. Cornue increased the magnificence of her dress; the Prince did not notice it; he scarcely ever looked at her. She was disconsolate; for the idea, entertained ever since she had carried him off, the hope of being ardently loved by him, had strengthened with time, and the Prince's increasing beauty had contributed much to her passion. He was just at that happy age in which we please without much trouble, and love with that frankness which is so soon discarded.

Cornue was enraged that he did not think of her. "You ought to love me, were it only to amuse you," said she to him, one day, when she was very melancholy. "Love you," replied he, looking very vacantly at her; "do I not love you?" Then, without thinking of it, he added immediately, "I feel certain I shall never love." "Ah! why?" said the Fairy; "who prevents you?" "Nobody," he replied; then rose, and took a gun, and went shooting for the rest of the day.

The Fairy, in despair at his indifference, and fearing she should lose him if she still persisted in opposing him, perceiving also that he was thinner, and that his colour had faded, determined to allow him to change the scene, and for this reason one morning she sent for him. "The time has arrived," said she, "that I can give you your liberty to leave the Palace. You will find the vast universe, of which I am about to open the roads to you, resemble a very stormy ocean, but since you wish to expose yourself to it, I will not detain you; all I advise you to do is to confide in me when in trouble (for you will have much to endure before you become King), and to commence your excursions by going to my sister Tigreline, and asking her, from me, for the wonderful necklace which can alone preserve you from the misfortunes attached to your fate. Take this bottle, pour a drop of the spirit it contains upon the clouds which surround the park; they will open for you to pass, and this dog will guide you on your way back to the palace."

The Prince, who did not expect so great a favour, displayed such transports of gratitude that the Fairy felt nearly recompensed for her trouble by the caresses she received from him. He promised to follow her advice upon every point, and set out immediately. The boundaries of the park adjoined a forest so wild and frightful that Coquerico found the world was not quite so beautiful as he imagined it to be; notwithstanding, he entered this vast wilderness, accompanied solely by his dog. Guided by his faithful companion, he was pursuing a path which led to the Forest of Tigers, when suddenly he saw a lion of extraordinary size coming straight towards him. At first he was startled at such a meeting, never having seen a lion in Cornue's park; but recovering himself a little, he shot an arrow with so true an aim that it pierced the lion's heart, and he fell dead at his feet. He proceeded as fast as possible, but his attention was arrested a moment afterwards by frightful roarings. He looked in the direction from whence they came, and he saw in the distance another lion, running at full speed, with a young child on its back; he was about to pursue it, but his dog pulled him by the coat so hard that he thought the Fairy Cornue had appointed this dog to be his guardian, and so, giving himself up to his guidance, he arrived at Tigreline's abode without further accident.

As soon as he had told her the reason of his journey, she replied, "Prince Coquerico, you will inform my sister that I have disposed of the necklace that she asks me for; doubtless it was for you she wanted it. I hope, however, that it will not fall into your hands so soon, whatever advantage you might desire from it. But to make up for the loss of this gift, which I am no longer able to bestow, I warn you that if you ever pronounce your name rashly, or without its being absolutely necessary, you will lose, perhaps for ever, that which is most dear to you. I advise you, therefore, to conceal your name from every one, or at least not to mention it lightly. Go, Prince, I can do nothing more for you."

The Prince thanked the Fairy very much, kissed her hand, retired, and returned to Cornue's palace, very well satisfied with the little he had seen. He was received most graciously; they asked him many questions; he related all his adventures; he fancied he should never have finished talking about them, everything had seemed of such singular beauty to him. He was in high spirits all the evening. They praised him, they caressed him, but that did not content him. He was resolved to go out again, and the Fairy, perceiving how good-tempered he was, permitted him to do as he wished. For a whole year he roamed to the furthest extent of the beautiful country in the neighbourhood; sometimes he went on horseback, and often dismounted to sleep under the trees during the heat of the day. This sort of exercise increased his stature and his strength. He was now in the prime of his beauty.

He was very anxious to ask the Fairy to restore him to his subjects; he was tired of this life of privation; his mind, as fine as his person, made him anxious to revisit his kingdom; but he dared not as yet request Cornue's permission, lest he should appear ungrateful. This brought back his former melancholy. Cornue became alarmed; she endeavoured to amuse him in every imaginable way. He scarcely ever went out; he passed his days almost entirely in the gallery of models, and when he saw a battle he could not be got away from it. What was still worse, he one day witnessed the coronation of a young King. At this sight they thought he would go mad. The shouts of joy, the warlike instruments, the pomp of the ceremony, transported him with anger as well as delight. "Why, then," said he, "am I to be imprisoned here during my youth, when I could be at the head of these people, making either war or peace, enjoying really my rights of birth? They would detain me here, a captive, render me as effeminate as Achilles at the Court of Licomedia. Can I not find a Ulysses who will come to my rescue?" He would have given still greater vent to his vexation had they not come to announce to him that the Fairy was waiting for him to order them to begin an opera she had commanded the performance of. "What, always some fête?" said he. "Well," he continued, "I must submit to it."

The opera they were to perform was _Armide_.[43] The Fairy, who had been told what an ill-humour the Prince was in, watched him during the performance. She thought that he seemed amused by it, for he was so attentive to the piece. The fourth and fifth acts he certainly did think wonderful; he spoke of it the whole of the evening; he admired above everything the idea of the shield which restored the hero to glory. "What," said the Fairy; "does not Armida interest you at all? Do you not pity her? So much affection deserves a better recompense." "By my faith, Madam," replied the Prince, "your Armida has what she deserves. I should like to know if the heart is to be commanded; I believe it to be perfectly independent of the will, as far as I am concerned." Cornue felt the cruelty of this answer, but she did not appear to do so, and turned the conversation to another subject.

The Prince retired early, that he might go the next day shooting. This was the day that his hand was wounded by the beautiful Lionette's arrow. Upon returning to the Fairy's palace the Prince considered whether he should speak of this adventure; he was astonished at himself for wishing to keep it a secret. A sweet feeling (hitherto unknown to him) stole over his mind, and took such possession of it that he was unable to conceal it. He asked himself what it could mean, and he could find no reason for it. The name of Lionette enchanted him. He repeated it incessantly. The grace, the beauty of this young girl enchanted him, and he found himself within the palace without being aware how he had arrived there. It was then he began to recover himself a little.

Under the effect of this intoxicating feeling, he said a thousand gallant things to the Fairy. She was surprised at it, but flattering herself that her charms had produced this alteration, she did not inquire the reason of such extraordinary joy. His wound made her uneasy, but he took care to tell her that he had hurt himself with one of his own arrows, and the enamoured Cornue, anxious about everything that concerned him, cured it by breathing upon it, without further inquiry. He was in charming spirits for the rest of the day; Cornue thought he had lost his senses; she ordered some music that he thought delightful, although he had heard the same every day without noticing it--so much does love embellish the slightest objects. His passion led him to indulge in delicious meditations, and to discover in his heart the existence of emotions he had never dreamed of. He retired early, and hastened to the gallery, seeking for a representation of her whom he had seen during the day--he was successful in his search; he saw the lovely Lionette seated between the old people in the cavern, and when, on separating for the night, they extinguished the light, and she was in darkness, he still remained gazing in the direction of the cavern, and did not leave the gallery until the following morning was sufficiently advanced for him to go and meet the lovely huntress herself. In traversing the forest he lost himself, and that was the cause of his being so long before he rejoined his beautiful Lionette.

Unfortunately for the Fairy, her skill was now useless to her--from the moment Fairies fall in love, their art cannot protect them; when they recover their reason they regain their power; but in the interim they can neither punish their rivals nor discover them, unless chance assist them, as it might common mortals. Three months elapsed without her having an idea of the cause of the change in Prince Coquerico; she heard no more of his ambitious aspirations; a country life and retirement was all he now desired; he dressed himself as a shepherd; he composed eclogues and madrigals; he engraved them upon the trees in the park, accompanied by gallant and amorous devices that the Fairy could not understand. When she asked him for an explanation, he smiled, and told her it was not for him to instruct so learned a person as she was. "Ask your own heart, Madam," added he, "that will teach you; it was mine that dictated it all to me."

The Fairy was quite contented with this answer; she interpreted it according to her own wishes, but she could not reconcile to herself the Prince's frequent absence, after all he had said to her; for he went out the first thing in the morning, and did not return till the last thing at night. She passed whole days in thinking about new dresses and different entertainments. As she had a lively imagination, she succeeded with the latter, but the former were absolutely useless--her age and her horn entirely defeated all attempts at decoration. It was upon this occasion that she invented the _Bal-Masqués_, which have been ever since so successful. The Prince often indulged in this agreeable delusion, and with his heart full of the beautiful Lionette, he spoke to the Fairy as though he were addressing his love, and the credulous Cornue took it all to herself.

Towards the end of the third month of this intense and secret passion, the Prince at length resolved to ask the Fairy to conduct him to his own kingdom. It was not ambition that induced him to wish it, but a higher and more delicate sentiment. Why conceal it? Love itself made him anxious to ascend the throne, that he might place the beautiful Lionette on it beside him. He had scarcely spoken to the Fairy about it before she consented, flattering herself that he wished to share his crown with her. With what pleasure did she order everything for his departure. The Prince, as we know, took leave of his lovely shepherdess, and set out, with the Fairy and a numerous suite, for the kingdom of the Fortunate Isles. Cornue was seated with him in a car of rock crystal, drawn by a dozen unicorns; their harness was of gold and rubies, as brilliant as the sun. A dozen other chariots, as pompous, followed; and the Prince, as beautiful as Cupid, and magnificently dressed, attracted the attention of every one. He had most carefully concealed the necklace that the lovely Lionette had given him; he wore it on his left arm as a bracelet, and his dress covered it. He was delighted at the thought of appearing before Lionette in such grand apparel, and to read in her looks the joy such proof of his love would give her; but he could not help feeling a secret anxiety, which at times cast a cloud over his mind; he attributed it to the distance between him and his love, and sometimes he thought he had done wrong in going so far away from her. "The happiness I am seeking, is it worth what I lose?" said he. "Lionette loves me as she has seen me; will she love me more for possessing a crown? Ah! Lionette, I know you too well to wrong you so much; your noble and simple heart only estimates that true grandeur which places man above his fellows by the elevation of his mind."

At length he arrived at the Fortunate Isles, and the people, delighted to see their Prince again, received him with acclamations. He was crowned, and by the attentions of the enamoured Cornue, the ceremony was followed by magnificent fêtes, in which the Prince, from gratitude, insisted on her sharing all the honours. The fêtes ended, and the affairs of this fine kingdom put in order by the Fairy and the ministers she had chosen, she determined to have a complete explanation with the King, and began by adroitly proposing that he should marry. She had gained the ministers over to her wishes, and induced them to join in the proposition she had made to him; but who can tell Cornue's astonishment when the young Prince replied by acknowledging his love for the beautiful Lionette, and entreating her to assist in rendering him happy, by enabling him to share his throne with the object of his affections! "Ah! where have you seen this Lionette?" replied the Fairy, with a look in which astonishment, rage, and vexation were equally visible. "What, then," added she, "is this the return for my care of you?" The Prince, astonished at this sharp reply, and not fearing her reproaches, ended by relating his interview with Lionette, and painted his affection in such glowing colours that she plainly saw the opposition she might make against it would only tend to irritate him and increase his passion; then cleverly making her decision, "I would not speak thus to you," said she, "but to reproach you for your want of confidence, that you did not open your heart to me. I should have served you better, and Lionette would have been to-day Queen of the Fortunate Isles; but you have acted like a young man without experience, and I doubt if I can serve you at present as I could otherwise have done." "Ah! Madam," replied the King, "you can if you will. Give me your chariot, and let me go and seek my beautiful Lionette." "I will do better for you," said she, with a forced smile; "I will go with you as soon as it strikes midnight; hold yourself in readiness; we shall be on our way back before the sun is up, and I know no other means of satisfying your impatience."

The Prince embraced the Fairy's knees, transported with joy and gratitude, which wounded her much more than his unfortunate confidence; she took leave of him under a pretext of consulting her books, but really because she could not contain herself, and her fury had risen to a most horrible height. Who could describe it? All that an amorous, jealous, and mistaken woman could feel, she, as a Fairy, felt still more; nor could the most forcible language paint but feebly the tortures which racked her heart. She had promised, however, to accompany the Prince; but that would enable her to execute the vengeance she meditated.

She felt the more assured of her revenge as the Prince had let the necklace fall from his arm, and had left her without being aware of his loss. She picked it up, and thanking the stars for so lucky an accident, no longer delayed taking measures for her revenge, which would have been useless without that precious necklace. She closed the doors of her apartment, that her absence might not be perceived, and desired the King might be told she must consult her books in private, and at midnight she would be visible. She mounted a flying dragon, and speedily arrived in the cavern, where everything was in profound repose; the dragon sneezed, which was like a clap of thunder, and enough to rend the cavern. She accomplished, as we have already seen, her wicked intentions, and returned to the Fortunate Isles as the clock struck eleven. She could hardly restrain her delight while waiting for the King; but soon the idea of his being in love, and without doubt loved in return, renewed her fury; she was in a transport of rage when he entered her room with an eagerness which assisted not a little to increase it.

She endeavoured to calm herself, or rather to dissemble her rage; her fury was at such a height that her horn was in a flame, and the enamoured and too credulous Coquerico, thinking it was an attention she was paying him to guide him in the darkness of the night, thanked her a thousand times for this precaution. They mounted a chariot drawn by three owls, set off at full speed, and descended in the forest close to the cavern wherein Lionette had been reared. The Prince only knew it from Lionette's description of it. Love invests with interest the most trifling circumstance connected with its object.

He had often asked her to describe the place she inhabited. He remembered every little detail distinctly. He could not be deceived; besides, he knew her bow and arrow that were in the cabinet in which she slept. His grief was excessive at not finding her; he called her, he went in and out of the cavern a thousand and a thousand times, he entreated the Fairy to throw a light from her horn upon places that were obscure, and seeing some little pictures she had painted--"Ah! this is her work," cried he; "I will preserve them all my life." The Fairy was so irritated at his transports, that she threw out a flame from her horn, which in a moment destroyed everything that was in the cavern.

The Prince had great difficulty to save himself from this conflagration. The Fairy protected him, however, and triumphed within herself at the absence of her rival. She advised the Prince to seek for her elsewhere. "Perhaps," said she, "her parents have married her; or perhaps," she continued, ironically, "grief at your loss has caused her death." "I know not what has happened," said the Prince, in a tone which marked the agitation of his mind, and distracted at not being able to find his mistress; "but I would rather believe her to be dead than unfaithful; and if it be true that she exists no longer, very soon I shall follow her to the grave." "Here is a furious determination of a lover!" cried the Fairy; but considering that under the circumstances it would be better not to irritate the King, she changed her tone. "What I have said," pursued she, "is to prove the interest I take in you. I am sorry you should have conceived an affection for a person of such low extraction, and I cannot sufficiently thank Fate that, in accordance with my own opinion, has removed this shepherdess, and thus assisted your heart to recover from its error." "I know not if Fate has assisted you to drive me mad," replied the Prince, sharply; "but if so, I feel she has been more successful in that attempt than the other. As to Lionette, I will repair the defect, if it be one, to be born of obscure parents,--not that I believe it possible for her to be what she appears. In any case, however, happy are the princesses who are as high-minded as she is."

The Prince now, seeing how uselessly he was seeking for her in this place, entered the chariot again with the Fairy, and returned to the Fortunate Isles, where they arrived at sunrise without having spoken a single word, both of them occupied--the one by her fury, the other by his grief.

The King, upon his return, shut himself up in his palace, and thought of nothing but by what steps he might recover Lionette. It occurred to him he ought to go to Tigreline. This resolution taken, he proceeded to Cornue to tell her his project. "I cannot imagine," said he to her, "why you do not assist me in this affair; is your power so limited? Is Tigreline's more extensive than yours?--for I believe," he added, instantly, "you are so interested in my happiness, that you would exert all the skill you possess to increase it, if it were possible. I could not even doubt it, without being ungrateful. I have had sufficient proofs to be quite sure of it, and I feel that I can never forget them." Cornue blushed at this question, which she did not expect, and becoming acquainted with the extent of her misfortune by the latter part of the King's discourse. "It is in consequence of that very affection I have for you," said she, "as you ought to know, that I will not serve you in fostering a passion that would diminish your glory; and if you are as grateful as you say you are for the care I have taken to make you happy, and for preserving your life, you will discard an infatuation which will be your ruin. What an idea will your people--will the whole universe--have of a king so little master of himself that he runs after a poor shepherdess, to give her a crown which he might share with the first princesses in the world--no matter whom: perhaps even a fairy might not have disdained to partake of one with you." These last words, which escaped her in spite of herself, opened the King's eyes, and looking at the Fairy with astonishment, he was convinced of the truth of his suspicions when he saw her standing silent, confused, and carefully avoiding his gaze.

It was some time before he could find words to answer, from his excessive astonishment; but unwilling either to irritate the Fairy at the moment he so much wanted her assistance, or to encourage a hope that he felt incapable of sustaining. "The knowledge you have of the human heart, Madam," said he, at last, "ought to have taught you that a King cannot dispense with the laws of nature more than other men. So pure and intense a passion as I have for Lionette is not of a character to be easily extinguished. Why did you not exert your power to render me insensible? I should not then have felt the grief I have to-day, nor the happiness you speak of. This choice of a great princess or of a fairy who would deign to receive my vows and my crown--this happiness, I say, does not at all affect me. Is it necessary that to be happy I must sacrifice myself for ever to the whims of my people? I must choose for myself. I would willingly make them happy. I feel a pleasure even in desiring and being able to do so--but what can it signify to them who I give them for their Queen? I value my greatness only because it enables me to elevate her whom I love. This sweet pleasure would induce me to support the weight of a crown; without it, what would be every other enjoyment? And am I compelled, because I am their master, to be deprived of the only pleasure I sigh for? No, Madam; in giving them Lionette I consider that I make them as happy as I make myself. Should they refuse to receive her, they will repent their temerity; and whoever ventures to oppose me will find that my love has not made me forget I am a king."

"Proceed, ungrateful one! Proceed to destroy me!" said the Fairy. "You know too well all the violence of my love for you, and you only pretend not to see it to overwhelm me the more by your severity. It is I--it is I only--who will expose myself to the danger of resisting thy base inclinations. Dare to punish me, and so complete the measure of your crimes! But how wilt thou do it? Thou art in my power, and the necklace which I hold, and which dropped from thine arm yesterday in my room, will revenge me for thy ingratitude." In saying this, she arose, and touching the King with her wand as he advanced to recover his mistress's love-token, she transformed him into a cock; then, opening one of the windows, she threw him down into the court of the palace; after which, assembling the Council, she informed them that the King had absented himself upon urgent business, and she, not being able to remain longer in that kingdom, had determined to appoint a regent. This affair concluded, she ascended her chariot and disappeared from their sight.

The King was dizzy with his fall, but his wings had supported him, in spite of himself, and when he had a little recovered his senses he jumped upon a balustrade of white and rose-coloured marble, which surrounded a piece of magnificent water in the centre of the court-yard, to see himself in it. He was astounded at his appearance--not but that he was the most beautiful bird in the world; his body seemed as though it was covered with emeralds,--his wings were of a bright rose-colour, and on his head was a crest of brilliants, which threw out a most dazzling light,--his tail was a plume of green and rose-colour,--his feet, of the latter hue, with claws blacker than ebony, and his beak was a single ruby.

We will leave this unhappy King reflecting upon the cruelty of this transformation, and return to Lionette, whom we left still more unhappy. This beautiful Princess, after having been six months amongst the tigers of the Fairy Tigreline, deploring her sad fate, was at length withdrawn from them by the Fairy herself, who pitying her situation, came to seek her and carry her to her palace, with both her unfortunate companions. Then, after caressing them and conducting them to a very comfortable den, she said to the Princess, "My dear Lionette, you have been a sufficiently long time punished for your imprudence in having given away your necklace, without my adding further useless remonstrances to the misery you endure in not being able to change your form until you have recovered that talisman; therefore, my dear child, I shall not scold you any more--on the contrary, I will mitigate your penalty as much as I can, and I am going to prove it to you by restoring your good guardians to their natural forms, that they may have the pleasure of talking to you, and consoling you." Poor Lionette threw herself at the Fairy's feet, and by the tears she shed, evinced at the same time her joy and her sorrow at not being able to answer her. Tigreline touched the Lion and Lioness with her wand; in an instant they resumed their human form, and after embracing the Fairy's knees, they embraced Lionette a thousand times, who returned their caresses as well as she could.

After this affecting scene, at which even Tigreline herself could not restrain her tears, she thus addressed the old man and his wife: "Good people, the days of your transformation will not be reckoned in the term of your existence, neither will Lionette's when she has passed through hers. Live to serve and console her until the time of her severe punishment shall have ended. I will not have her shut up any longer; she can run freely about my gardens and in my forest; as for yourselves, you will remain in my palace, and have charge of her. Let us wait patiently for time to bring about a more happy termination to this adventure than I can dare to hope for, and at least by our fortitude cause Fate to blush for her injustice." The Fairy ceased speaking, and embraced Lionette with all her heart. Lionette's was so full that she shed a torrent of tears, and uttered groans which increased the affliction both of the Fairy and the good people.

She spent her days in the forest, hunting game, which the Fairy had ordered to be put there for her. The tigers respected and saluted her whenever she passed. She reclined during the heat of the day in the most secluded and shady places, meditating on her fate, and feeling less distressed at her own situation than at the absence or the loss of Prince Coquerico. She sighed affectionately at the remembrance of him, and her greatest grief was her separation from him. She scrawled with her talons on the barks of the trees rudely formed initials, hearts and arrows, and wept over her lover's and her own misfortune. At night she returned to her den, and to the Fairy, who showed her great kindness. The old man and his wife amused her by relating anecdotes to her.

One day that she was at the Fairy's with her guardians, she seized a sheet of paper and a pen, and wrote a request to the Fairy that she would tell her who she was. She presented it to Tigreline, who, as she was very clever, contrived to read what the Lioness had written. (No one but a Fairy could well have deciphered it.) She sighed, and raised her eyes to Heaven, then looking affectionately at Lionette, she said, "I am going to satisfy you, my dear Lionette. The trials that mortals encounter often serve as lessons to persons of your rank. May it please the just gods that those which you have endured from the commencement of your life be the only trials ordained for you. But do not cease to bear them with resignation and courage. You are a Princess, my dear child; they did not deceive you when they told you so; you are the daughter of the King of the Island of Gold; the Queen, your mother, died in giving birth to you, and the King, your father, resolved not to marry again, that he might preserve the crown for you. You were scarcely four years old when a fugitive Queen, driven from her kingdom, came to implore your father's assistance to regain the throne that her rebellious subjects had made her descend from, for having persisted in reigning to the prejudice of her only son, whom she detained at a distance from the capital, for fear he should claim the sceptre.

"This ambitious Princess, perceiving that the King, your father, would afford his assistance too slowly for her impatience, turned her thoughts in another direction. She cared not where she reigned, provided she did reign. She therefore resolved to marry your father; but knowing he did not wish for an increase of family that might deprive you of the crown, and that consequently as long as you lived he would never marry, she came to consult me. She did not attempt to conceal from me her sanguinary intentions respecting you; and I knew if I were mistress of the necklace that she wore, I should be able to save your life.[44] I listened, therefore, quietly to her, notwithstanding the horror that these propositions gave me of her. 'Queen,' said I to her, 'you will never obtain your object until I have possession of your necklace. Give it to me, and be sure of the success of your undertaking.' 'A Fairy who presided at my birth,' said she, 'commanded that I should always wear it.' Those were her only words; but since it has not prevented my falling from the throne to which my birth had entitled me, I part with it willingly, and place it in your hands, relying much more on your assistance than on the pretended charm to make me happy.' 'Go,' said I, 'return to the Island of Gold, and wait patiently the effect of my power, and above all, do not attempt the life of the young Princess; I will serve you without adopting such cruel means.'

"She returned to the Island, and after some time, married your father. That very day I transported you, with the King and the Queen, into the cavern where the old man found you, and changed them both into Lions. The King because I feared his weakness, and the Queen to punish her for her wickedness. I not only took from her the power of doing you any harm, but obliged her to take care of you. As for the King, I knew I need not inspire him with feelings of humanity; he retained them, notwithstanding the natural ferocity of the animal into which I had transformed him."

Poor Lionette at these words interrupted the Fairy by a melancholy roar. Tigreline smiled, and caressing the Lioness, "Take courage, my dear girl," said she; "you mourn the death of a good father; your susceptible heart will feel equal joy in learning that I have saved his life; that he is at present residing in a part of the world to which I transported him after I had cured his wound; and that he is as anxious to see you again as you can possibly desire." Lionette, who was couched upon a great stone at the feet of the Fairy, licked her hand softly, to show her gratitude, and her eyes sparkled with so much pleasure that the Fairy, delighted at the effect of her good-tidings, kissed her most tenderly. "As for the Lioness, your mother-in-law," continued Tigreline, "she died, not from grief at losing the Lion, but from rage at finding her projects frustrated by his death, which she really believed; and the tears you have shed for her were far more than she deserved for the unwilling care she took of you."

The Fairy had arrived at this point in her story, when in at the window flew a cock of singular beauty, and perched upon her shoulder; they were all very much astonished; the Fairy, who was spinning, let fall her spindle, but quickly recovering herself, she held out her finger to the bird, which jumped upon it, and flapping its wings in token of gratitude, crowed out "Coquerico" two or three times. At the first note the Lioness took fright, and ran off as fast as possible,[45] her guardians following her. In the meanwhile, Tigreline examined the bird, and seeing how wonderfully beautiful he was, immediately unravelled the mystery of this adventure. "Prince," said she, "I believe I know you, and I am much deceived if you have not just told me your name." The Prince (for it was he) stooped his beak to her feet, as making a low bow to the Fairy. "Oh, Heavens!" cried she, "is it possible there should be such a complicated chain of misfortunes. The barbarous being who has reduced you to this sad state has only allowed you the power of pronouncing a name which is the cause of all kinds of evil to you. It has even now occasioned your Princess to fly from you, and perhaps it may have been the last time in your life that you could have seen her."

The Cock at these words looked at the Fairy with amazement; he had only perceived in the room a lioness and two old people; he could not comprehend these words of Tigreline; she read his thoughts, for he could not express them. "She was here, I tell you," replied she, "and I forgive you for not recognising her; but if my sister, the cruel Cornue, has been able to change you into a cock, has she not the power also of turning the Princess into a lion?" The Cock felt as if he should faint at this cruel news. "Oh, Fate! pitiless Fate!" continued the Fairy, "how blind are thy decrees! Why dost thou punish the innocent, and let the guilty live?" Her thoughts would have quite absorbed her if her eyes had not fallen upon the poor bird, who had fallen down, and appeared dying. She took him in her arms, and giving him some wonderful liquid to smell, he recovered his senses, but sighed bitterly at being compelled to see the light again. "Do not distress yourself, my dear Prince," said the Fairy, "I will use all my skill to assist you; but to ensure my success you must second my endeavours. I cannot render you perfectly happy so long as Cornue is in possession of the necklace, and it is only through you that I can recover it. Repose yourself, dear Prince; my books that I am going to consult to-night will enlighten me as to what we shall do to-morrow."

The King could not sufficiently express his gratitude--he pressed his beak on the Fairy's hand, and squeezed her arm gently with his claw--in short, he displayed as much feeling as he possibly could. Tigreline, after giving him something to eat and to drink, which he scarcely touched, placed him upon a shelf in her cabinet, and then saluting him, retired to her chamber to set about the work she had promised to undertake for him.

While this was passing, poor Lionette, overcome with a fear she could not recover from, fled with all her might, and had already gone far beyond the Forest of Tigers, notwithstanding those animals had used all their endeavours to detain her, for they were all fond of her, and several of them were even in love with her; but she had forced her way through every obstacle, and having no guide but terror, still believing the Cock was pursuing her, she ran a hundred leagues at once, and never stopped till her strength failed her. Her poor guardians called to her and sought for her in vain; they returned very much distressed at daybreak to the Fairy, to tell her of Lionette's flight.

The Fairy, who knew that if Lionette went beyond the limits of the forest she had no longer any power over her, and that she would be entirely at Cornue's mercy, left her unwillingly to her fate, and thought only of being of service to King Coquerico. She entered the cabinet wherein he had passed the night, to tell him what he had to do. He flapped his wings at her arrival, and flew to the ground to kiss the hem of her robe. The Fairy took him on her hand, placed him on a little table, and drew it up in front of an arm-chair, in which she seated herself. "Great King," said she, "the destiny that has nursed you since your birth commands me to tell you that you will not regain your natural form but upon very severe conditions. You must be sufficiently fortunate to recover from Cornue the necklace given to you by Lionette. If you fail to do so, you can never become a human being again but by marrying Cornue. In that case, if Lionette, whom my wicked sister insists upon being a witness to this ceremony, can restrain the grief it must cause her, I foresee that you may become happy at last; but if she have not the courage to support the terrible sight of that marriage, I will not be answerable for anything." Coquerico at these words bent his head and shed tears, at which the Fairy was much affected. "A tender heart," said the Fairy, "is pardonable, and even desirable in a King. Your grief, according to this principle, is very excusable, but you must not abandon yourself too much to sorrow. Leave to vulgar minds, my lord, complaints and lamentations, and without wishing to be stronger than humanity demands, courageously resist the blows of fate, and if you only succeed in testing your fortitude, and finding it cannot be shaken, you ought to be content. It is the first of all advantages, and yet one we rarely ask of the gods, because we do not know the value of it. Take this bottle, and endeavour to throw a drop of the liquid that is in it upon Cornue. That will make her swoon away, and you will then obtain your object."

Coquerico, who was in no hurry to depart, looked at the Fairy to ask her to explain herself still further: she understood what he would say. She related in a few words Lionette's history. He thanked her in the most affectionate manner he could, and he now recollected that the Fairy, in speaking of her previously, had more than once called her the Princess. He was enchanted to learn that this lovely girl was of such high birth, but that did not increase his affection for her. Nothing, indeed, could augment it. It was not so with respect to his indignation against Cornue. Every moment it became stronger, particularly when the Fairy, at the end of her narration, told him that the unhappy Princess had taken flight at his crowing, as well as at his name, from the antipathy that lions had naturally to the crowing of a cock, that the malicious Cornue had increased it in the case of Lionette, that he had so frightened her that she had flown beyond the bounds of the forest, and that she might have fallen already into Cornue's power, as, having once quitted the Forest of Tigers, she could not possibly re-enter it till she had resumed her own shape.