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.
King Coquerico was instantly anxious to depart, and indicated it as
well as he could to Tigreline, who could understand at half a word.
After embracing him, and fastening the bottle under his right wing, she
opened her window, and he flew away, perfectly resolved that rather
than crow to frighten the lions, he would be devoured by them.
To what fearful extent can passions increase in the hearts of those
who do not try to conquer them? The implacable Cornue, distracted by
turns, or rather at the same moment, by the most violent love and
by the most frightful jealousy, spent her days in the Opal Palace,
meditating the deepest revenge against her rival and her lover. What
more could she desire? Were they not sufficiently wretched? They could
not recognise each other, and flew from one another as soon as they
met. Could anything more cruel be imagined? Poor Lionette, overcome by
fatigue, fell down from faintness and fright upon some beautiful green
turf, which answered as a bed for the moment. She had run an hundred
leagues without stopping, as we have said before, and with incredible
swiftness, for she had quitted the Fairy in the evening, and by sunrise
next morning found herself in this strange country. So true it is that
fear lends one wings. She looked around her, and saw nothing but that
green sward, through which flowed a clear stream, refreshing the grass
and the little wild flowers that adorned it. She slept there profoundly
after drinking of the beautiful water, which possessed the property not
only to quench thirst, but at the same time to appease hunger.
She slept for fifteen hours. When she awoke she felt much refreshed,
and continued her journey along the bank, at the end of which she saw a
palace, of architecture as simple as it was wonderful. She entered it
by a beautiful portico of foliage; in it she saw cabinets, chambers,
and galleries, all formed of green hedges, and what charmed her
particularly was, that in the middle of each room were large groups
of flowers of all sorts, that greeted her with most friendly bows,
and said with one accord, as she approached, "Good morning, beautiful
Lionette." This wonderfully astonished her; she stopped at a tube-rose
plant that had saluted her still more graciously than the rest. "Lovely
flowers," said she to them, "by what happy chance is it that you have
given me the power of speech, that all the skill and friendship of
the generous Tigreline could not restore to me? Is it you that have
done this? Tell me, that I may return my thanks to you?" "The stream
that has quenched your thirst, beautiful Lionette," replied one of the
tube-roses, "has the merit of it; we have no power, and it is only
when we are watered by it that we have the faculty of hearing, seeing,
and expressing ourselves. We are flowers from the garden of the Fairy
Cornue; for some time past she has been very sad; she came to converse
with us, but we were unable to comfort her; perhaps that task was
reserved for you; you must use your endeavours. She will not return for
two days, as she was here yesterday; her palace is some distance from
this; wait for her, we will do all we possibly can to amuse you till
she returns."
The Tube-rose then ceased speaking, although she was naturally a little
talkative, but she yielded from politeness to Lionette's desire to
ask some questions. "I should like to know, obliging Tube-rose," said
Lionette, "if Cornue, of whom you speak, and to whom you belong, is a
beautiful fairy; and then I should be obliged by your telling me how
you knew my name and who I was as soon as you saw me." "A Rose-tree,
who is the oracle of this place," replied the Tube-rose, "at the last
sacrifice made to it by the Fairy, our mistress, predicted that a
great princess, in the form of a lion, would one day come hither, and
that here she would terminate all her distress. The Fairy displayed
immoderate joy at this; she redoubled the incense and the bees, they
being the only victims that are immolated here. This is an answer to
your two questions at once, for by the Fairy's delight you can easily
conceive her good intentions towards you."
The innocent Lionette thought there was great truth in the tube-rose's
conjectures; she thanked her heartily, and begged she would inform her
where the Rose-tree was, that she might consult it as to what conduct
she ought to adopt. The Tube-rose directed her, and she soon found the
spot; it was not far from the cabinet of tube-roses. This apartment
had some appearance of a temple, the hedges forming an arch above
the Rose-tree, which preserved it from the heat of the sun; a little
balustrade of jasmine and pomegranate trees surrounded this beautiful
plant, which was covered with so many roses that it was quite dazzling.
The Lioness was obliged to shut her eyes once or twice: she tremblingly
approached the balustrade, and prostrating herself, respectfully said,
"Divinity of this lovely place, deign to receive my homage, and tell me
my destiny."
The Rose-tree at these words appeared to be much agitated, the leaves
and flowers trembled, and became pale. Then a voice interrupted by sobs
issued from its branches, and Lionette heard the following words:--
To the severe decree of Fate
In blind submission bend.
A Princess, most unfortunate,
Will here her sorrows end.
The Princess was frightened at the indications of grief the Rose-tree
gave way to, and if the first words overwhelmed her, the latter
encouraged her a little. "Alas!" said she, "I fear nothing but the
prolongation of my existence; if I should end my miserable life here, I
should bless the fate that led me to this spot; but wise and generous
Rose-tree, before ending my days, may I not know if he to whom I would
willingly consecrate them still lives; and if he is happy, wherever he
may be? This is my only anxiety. I should die without one regret if I
knew that his destiny was decided." The rose-bush was again strongly
agitated, and thus replied:--
For the last time, at thy desire,
I raise my warning voice:--
Thy lover only will expire
Shouldst thou oppose his choice.
"Ah! wise Divinity," exclaimed the affectionate Lioness, "I will ask
you nothing more; if he live, I am too happy. May I alone suffer from
the severity of the Fairies! Their persecutions appear as nothing to
me if he be exempted from them, and I permitted to see him happy.
Ah! why should I fetter his inclinations? Alas! the choice which I
should be opposed to, whatever it might be, would never offend me;
what can he owe me? and what can I offer him worthy of his merits? The
unfortunate Lionette not having it in her power to make him happy,
should not prevent him from becoming so, at least I may be permitted
the desire of being the cause of it." Saying this, she retired to the
cabinet of the tube-roses, where she passed the night talking of her
shepherd, and telling her love for him to her faithful friend, who in
return more fully informed her what she knew of the Fairy Cornue and
of her floral companions. "As for the oracular Rose-tree," said she,
"all we know is, it is not of the rose-tree race, it was here when we
came, and I believe that the Fairy, to embellish its dwelling-place,
transplanted us hither; it speaks without being watered, and appears
but little amused by our conversation. It is naturally melancholy, and
you have seen for yourself it has a perfect knowledge of the past, the
present, and the future. The Fairy passes whole days, when she comes
here, in talking to it; rarely does she do us that honour, and I think
it is in consequence of the vexatious things she hears from it that she
feels no pleasure in talking to us. A pomegranate blossom, a very great
friend of mine, often repeated their conversation to me. The Rose-tree
conceals from the Fairy what it is--the Fairy cannot discover it; all
one can make out is, that it was not always a rose-tree."
She had spoken thus far, when a pink, a ranunculus, and some other
flowers entered, and after paying their compliments to the Lioness,
they announced to the Tube-rose that Cornue intended to visit them
a day earlier than usual; that they might expect her the following
morning, and that she proposed making a pompous sacrifice to the
Rose-tree; that they were ignorant of the cause of this grand ceremony,
but thought it denoted the approach of some great event. The flowers
wondered among themselves what this great event could be, without
coming to any definite conclusion.
They then talked about the weather, a conversation in which they shone
greatly, and which would have amused Lionette had she been in another
frame of mind, but she spoke little, and listened less. At sunset the
flowers retired each to their home; and Lionette, after taking a very
slight repast of herbs from the mossy ground, and drinking the water
from the wonderful rivulet, went to sleep at the feet of her faithful
friend the Tube-rose. The first rays of the sun having touched her
eyelids, she awoke: the flowers were already on the move. Lionette
arose, and repaired to the Rose-tree. She laid herself down in one
of the corners of its little temple, and saw all the flowers arrive,
and place themselves artistically to do honour to the Fairy, who did
not keep them long waiting. The whole of the temple glowed with the
beautiful colours of these various flowers; some formed themselves
into arbours, others into garlands, crowns, girandoles, in short, into
a thousand and a thousand kinds of ornaments, so marvellously arranged
that the general effect was dazzling. The sweetness of their perfume
was exquisite; and that which drew Lionette from her reflections was,
that after this arrangement, and on notice of the Fairy's approach,
they commenced so melodious a concert that the most melancholy beings
would have forgotten their grief, and have yielded to the sweet
enchantment in which this music wrapped the soul. The Tube-rose, above
all, was perfection. It charmed Lionette completely. She listened with
delight to this wonderful melody, and admired the poetry of the hymn
which they sang; when suddenly she saw the redoubtable Cornue enter,
blazing with jewels, but more frightfully ugly than can be described.
She was seized with a horror at this sight which she could not account
for. She reproached herself for it. "Is it possible," said she to
herself, "that I can be still affected by the weak prejudice of which
my sex is so susceptible? Ought we to decide upon the qualities of the
mind by the beauty or ugliness of the countenance? What feelings must I
inspire if they judge poor Lionette by her form? Judge thyself before
thou judgest others, and conceal not from thyself that if ugliness
induces thee to take an aversion to any one, thou must thyself inspire
a terrible horror."
While Lionette was constraining herself to vanquish the dreadful
feeling that the presence of the Fairy had possessed her with, the
latter, to the sound of joyful music which echoed through the temple
of the Rose-tree, advanced towards the balustrade and saw the Lioness,
who, seated in the corner to which she had retired, crouched in the
most humble manner as the Fairy gazed on her. Cornue's countenance
brightened with intense joy at this sight. "Oracle, whose words are
always those of truth," exclaimed she, "you have promised me that I
should one day find that which I have sought for so earnestly, and
which doubtless you have reserved as a recompense for the many honours
I have paid to you. Come," said she to the fairies who followed her,
"chain this wild beast, and fasten it to my chariot, after which let
us immolate our victims." Four fairies threw a chain about Lionette,
who allowed herself to be dragged out of the temple notwithstanding the
grief shown by the flowers, that looked as they do when Aurora sheds
her gentle dew upon them, for they all loved Lionette; but their tears
did not in the least soften the inflexible heart of the jealous Cornue.
The Rose-tree shot from its stem a flame which consumed the offering
of bees which the fairies had just placed upon a little golden altar
they had drawn towards it. Its roses became amaranth colour. Cornue
was quite alarmed at this change. "What prodigy is this?" cried she.
"Divinity of these realms, do you protect my rival, or is it the joy of
delivering her into my power that has produced this mysterious change?"
The Rose-tree shuddered at these words, and with a strong and terrible
voice thus answered the Fairy:--
Immolate to my just wrath
The first fowl that shall cross thy path.
Mercy to it dare to show
None thyself shall ever know!
The Rose-tree after this closed its flowers and leaves, and by this
action appeared to bid the Fairy depart. She left the temple much
discontented, and remounted her chariot, to which they had fastened
Lionette, with three other lions who were very handsome. She took the
reins that united these animals and drove slowly over the velvet lawn
by the side of the rivulet, the gentle murmuring of which favoured
her meditations, until one of the fairies, following in another
chariot, exclaimed that she saw a fowl in the water, which appeared
to be drowning. Cornue stopped her chariot, and ordered them to catch
and bring to her the bird that so luckily came to reconcile her with
the oracular Rose-tree. The fairies who were the lightest clad threw
themselves into the stream, and caught the poor bird, which was already
insensible. They carried it to Cornue, who was not at all surprised
at its beauty, for she instantly recognised, to her great dismay, the
unfortunate King Coquerico. "Oh, Heavens!" exclaimed she to herself;
"is it thus, cruel oracle, thou wouldst have me understand thee?" She
held the King up by his feet, and having made him eject the water
that he had swallowed, he reopened his eyes, already darkened by the
approach of death, then quickly touching him with her wand, said to
him, "Resume thy proper form, and save me thereby from the horror of
taking thy life, upon which mine depends." At these words the King,
safe and sound, appeared more brilliant than the sun, his royal mantle
on his shoulders, and his crown of brilliants gracefully encircling his
temples. What became of Lionette at this sight? Her lover stood before
her--her lover a king, and more beautiful than the day! She would have
been speechless with astonishment even had she not resolved beforehand
that she would not speak to the Fairy until she had discovered her
motive for ill-treating her so cruelly. She remained silent, therefore,
but her eyes were so affectionately fixed on the King, that if he had
not been pre-occupied by the adventure that had just occurred, he would
easily have recognised his unhappy Princess.
"What more do you require of me, Madam?" said he to Cornue. "Is it to
make me feel my miseries more keenly that you have restored me to my
form of which you so unjustly deprived me? or do you at last repent
that you have done me so much mischief?" "Ungrateful ever, and still
more ungrateful," replied the Fairy, presenting her hand for him to
assist her to descend from her chariot. "Come and justify yourself,
and do not accuse me." So saying, she stepped with him upon the mossy
bank of the rivulet, and leaving her chariot and her companions at
some distance, spoke thus to the King, whom she made to sit down
beside her:--"I need scarcely tell you that I have loved you from your
infancy; the care that I have taken of you must convince you of it,
if you still remember it, for I do not expect gratitude for such poor
benefits. I will only slightly touch upon what has hitherto passed,
for I experienced but cruel ingratitude, which my affection for you
disguised under the name of indifference, arising, perhaps, from my
lack of beauty. I believed for some time that by kindness I should
overcome this coldness. 'Beauty,' I said, 'is but a poor possession--a
sensible man is only caught at first by it. Unlimited power--a fairy
who condescends so far as to desire to please a mortal is always
sufficiently beautiful.' I discovered but too late the abuse of my
confidence, and saw with horror that I had a rival. What did I then do
to be revenged, but what every woman would have done? Far from availing
myself of my power, I only exercised my discretion. I took Lionette
away from you, but I did not kill her--what excess of weakness!--for
she was at my mercy--and what a proof of my love do you not recognise
in that weakness? Your insults and contemptuous coldness drove me to
despair. I deprived you of your form, and I left you. What greater
cruelty could you show me than I had inflicted on myself? No, all your
hatred did not torture me as much. In what misery did I pass my days
after that frightful separation! I accused myself of cruelty, I forgot
all your injustice, and when, becoming more calm, I thought of it as
it really had been, I reproached myself with having given you cause
for it by too much vivacity--in short, your image always present in
my mind, the thought of your anger constantly weighing on my heart,
I could get no rest. Some of the fairies who attended on me in the
Opal Palace advised me to consult the oracular Rose-tree respecting
my destiny. This Oracle, without any one knowing the reason, has
established itself here, or at least has planted itself in the Sward
of Eloquence (the name that is given to that which you behold here,
from the rivulet which surrounds it, because it possesses the faculty
of making everything speak that is watered by it). Persecuted by my
enemies, I came at last to consult this new Oracle. I found at first
some relief to my troubles; I took great pleasure in embellishing its
abode; by my art I caused all kinds of flowers to grow here; I raised
a little temple of verdure, and watering all the flowers from the
Rivulet of Eloquence, I enabled them to converse with the Rose-tree and
entertain it. The information I gathered respecting my destiny made
me grateful to the Oracle, and gave me confidence in its predictions.
I came often to question it, and I endeavoured to discover by whom it
could possibly be inspired. I ascertained that it was not one of those
deities who take pleasure in manifesting themselves to mortals, as at
Delphi. It was a man transformed into a rose-tree, and protected by a
power unknown to me, and carefully kept a secret. I offered him all
my power as a reward for what he had promised me, but he constantly
declined it. At last, having predicted an event which has occurred to
me this very day, and the commencement of my happiness, he commanded
me to sacrifice to him the first fowl that I should see. Judge if all
the happiness I could expect from its promises is to be weighed in the
balance against your life--for that is what he demands of me. Could I
feel, could I know, a comfort, deprived of it? Let the Oracle be angry
with me, overwhelm me if it will with the most dreadful calamities, I
will not avoid them by the sacrifice of your life. Continue, if you
dare, to treat me inhumanly, cruelly--I will submit to it, provided I
can still behold you; for I have resolved to suffer everything your
hatred can inflict upon me, sooner than consent to immolate you to the
strange caprice of the Rose-tree."
Cornue ceased speaking, and the King, having expressed his
acknowledgments, replied,--"What can I do for you, Madam? My heart
is mine no longer; I have no wish to deceive you; not only is such
perfidy incompatible with my nature, but you too well know what I think
for me to attempt to impose on your credulity, and I owe you too much
gratitude for saving my life willingly to deceive you, were it in my
power. But why have you preserved one who never can make you happy? Far
better would it have been for you to have obeyed your Oracle. Certain
that you will always oppose my happiness, I should have received my
death at your hands with pleasure, since I can never entertain for you
a warmer feeling than gratitude. You would have relieved me from the
shame of appearing thankless to you, and from being obliged to drag out
an existence far from the object of my eternal affection."
The King was silent, and the Fairy greatly agitated; neither spoke for
some time. "What did this deceitful Oracle promise you?" at length
inquired the King. "If you can be rendered happy by ending my life, why
defer the sacrifice? The generosity you have shown in preserving it,
excites in my heart a feeling of emulation. Conduct me to the temple,
it will not be you that will immolate me, at least; Love will acquit
you, for Love will dispose of my life, as it is he who prevents my
making you the mistress of it." "Talk no more of sacrifice," said the
Fairy, rising; "your life is too precious for me not to struggle to
preserve it, at the risk of all that may happen. Come to my palace, and
we will see to-morrow what can be done." She then moved towards her
chariot, which she stepped into with the Prince, and the Lions went at
such speed that they arrived almost immediately at the Opal Palace.
Here it was that Lionette abandoned herself to the bitterest grief when
she saw the Fairy descend from her chariot with the Prince, desiring
that her lions might be put into a grotto where a thousand other wild
animals were lodged that she drove in harness. "Oh, Heavens!" she
cried, "to what am I reduced?" She permitted herself to be led away to
the grotto, and retiring into a dark corner, stretched herself upon
a little straw, and passed the night groaning at her fate. Some days
elapsed without any one disturbing her sad repose; at the end of which
time two young fairies came to take four lions, some tigers, and two
bears to be hunted for the entertainment of the Fairy and in honour of
the King.
As the Princess was ignorant of the purpose for which these animals
were selected, she did not speak to the Fairies. But what a situation
for her! Her lover, whom she could not doubt was in the Palace, and who
could not know her--the severity of the Fairy--the horror of passing
her days in this strange place--all gave her a disgust to life, which
would not yield to the love she possessed for the King, though it had
been redoubled by the sight of him. "Ah, why should I continue to love
him?" she exclaimed. "Doubtless he no longer loves me. And to render my
punishment the greater, I feel he is more lovely than ever. Let me die;
and may he never know the extent of the misery he has caused me. Bereft
of his love--bereft of him--why should I regret to die?"
She could not suppose him to be enamoured of Cornue; she tried in vain
to think why he was at the Opal Palace; she lamented the timidity
that induced her to fly from Tigreline at the crowing of the cock. In
recalling to her mind the few circumstances she was cognizant of, she
felt convinced that the cock that flew in at the window was certainly
the same which was brought to Cornue, and re-transformed upon the
Sward of Eloquence. "How contrary is my destiny!" said she. "My heart
pants for an object which certainly compels me to fly from it. Let me
hasten to put an end to this torment. Can the approach of death be a
greater punishment? Coquerico, ungrateful Coquerico, has forgotten me.
Why should I any longer doubt it? Let me go and expire at the foot of
the Rose-tree, and for ever fly from a place that only aggravates and
redoubles my grief."
Fortunately the fairies had not shut the door of the grotto. The
wretched Princess stole out, and found herself in Cornue's forest. She
heard a great noise of horns and dogs; she entered a thick part of the
wood which appeared likely to conceal her. Anxious to let the chase
go by, she had thrust herself under some low branches, when she heard
a dear voice she could not be mistaken in. This voice spoke to one
whom she soon knew to be the Fairy Cornue. "Yes, Madam, I avow it. I
have an invincible repugnance to hunt lions ever since the unfortunate
Lionette has been changed into one. I know not what has become of her.
You wish me to remain in ignorance about her; you object to my taking
any means by which I might obtain knowledge of her present position.
You wish to kill me. Ah, why, then, do you hesitate, when your Oracle
demands my death? Let me go to consult it, or with my sword will I rid
myself of a life which is rendered insupportable by your tyranny." "How
can you imagine," replied the Fairy, "that I should allow you to seek
this Oracle who demands your death? For it is not that he desires a
cock as a sacrifice more than any other bird--it is you yourself that
the barbarous Oracle would have immolated; and do you think I will
consent to that? I love you, and you hate me--that is all my offence
in your eyes. And if I were to restore Lionette to you, you would soon
forget even the trifling gratitude you might profess to entertain for
me." "I," exclaimed the King, "forget it? Never! I forget that I was
indebted to you for the happiness of my existence? Do not imagine it.
Restore her to her natural shape, and I swear to you I will agree to
everything that depends upon myself. You will command my obedience,
and my friendship will be unbounded. In fact, if I cannot give you my
heart, at least there will be so little apparent difference, that you
yourself will scarcely perceive it." "Enough," said the Fairy; "I trust
to your oath, and I will yield to your impatience. To-morrow we will
proceed to the temple of the Rose-tree. I will expose myself to its
anger. I will try to appease it, and then we shall see if your word is
inviolable."
The King and the Fairy passed on, and the Princess, delighted to find
her lover as faithful as she had believed him inconstant, turned her
footsteps towards the temple of the Rose-tree, and arrived there late
at night.
All the flowers were asleep. She did not disturb any of them; she went
and lay at the feet of the Tube-rose--she did not sleep. The beauty
of the night filled her soul, already prepared to receive delightful
impressions, with the purest joy, unmingled with a shade of sorrow.
The amiable Coquerico, faithful and loving, appeared in her idea so
worthy of being loved, that she did not regret all she had suffered
for him. She never thought about his being a King; she disdained every
advantage that was the mere consequence of chance. He was worthy of
her affection--that was all she considered. Cornue's reproaches had
revealed her jealousy. Lionette in an instant therefore understood why
the Fairy had so ill-treated her; and as the happiest love is subject
to reverses, she distressed herself at what the King would have to
suffer if he resisted the Fairy's passion. She immediately determined
to abandon her lover to her rival in order to save his life, which
the Oracle had told her he would lose if she opposed his choice. Some
mournful reflections upon this situation succeeded to those that had
so pleasantly occupied her. She determined to seek the Oracle without
delay. She arose very quietly, and entered the temple as the day broke.
King Coquerico was not in a better situation. The horror with which
Cornue had inspired him by her new barbarity in wishing his mistress
to perish by his hand under the pretence of affording him the
entertainment of a lion hunt, was unconquerable: his patience was
exhausted, and he only feigned to agree to her wishes in order to gain
time to be revenged, by getting the necklace out of her possession.
The Fairy had luckily not noticed the little bottle under his wing the
day she restored him to his form; he therefore still possessed it, and
trusted it would be of great use to him. He retired early that night,
under pretence of being fatigued, and the Fairy begged he would wear
the ornaments that she had ordered to be put into his room, that he
might make a grander figure in the eyes of the Rose-tree. He was no
sooner in his own apartment than the recollection of what Cornue had
said, and of what he had promised, threw him into deep distress, as he
foresaw that if he could not anticipate the artful Fairy's intention,
he should only obtain from this jealous enemy the pleasure of once more
seeing Lionette, in return for which Cornue would undoubtedly insist
upon his marrying her.
This cruel thought made him more eager for revenge, and that feeling
was increased by his observing a large basket made of pearls and
garnets in filigree work, which stood on a table beside him. He made
no doubt it contained the presents she had requested him to wear. He
raised the white taffeta embroidered in gold which covered this elegant
basket, and perceived with astonishment, mingled with rage, the royal
robes that are worn at the marriage of the Kings of the Fortunate
Islands. As they were the work of the Fairies, it is impossible to
describe their magnificence.
A moment afterwards, recollecting that he should appear thus attired
before the Princess, he could not divest himself of the idea that
occurred to him, that perhaps such magnificence might make an
impression on her. However, believing the Fairy to be asleep, he
resolved to put his plan in execution without delay, and throwing all
the ornaments back into the basket, he ascended a private staircase
which led to Cornue's bed-chamber. He arrived without any obstacle
at her bed-side; the curtains were open, and held back by Cupids of
mother-of-pearl; these also supported crystal chandeliers filled with
wax lights, to illumine the room. When she could not sleep the Cupids
sang, or read to her the news of the day, Gazettes, or fresh stories
that were written about the Fairies. On that night they must certainly
have been reading to her as long a story as this, for she snored
terribly. She could not have foreseen the King's unseasonable visit,
for no one could look so ugly in bed as she did. She had neither rouge
nor patches; and her livid and unhealthy-looking skin, gave her more
the appearance of a corpse than of a living and amorous Fairy. Her horn
assisted in making her more hideous. She had the fatal necklace round
her neck, which was partly uncovered. The King was not at all enchanted
by the sight of her. His desire to free himself from so hideous an
object made him hastily draw forth his little bottle, in order to fling
some drops of its contents over the Fairy, when all the Cupids suddenly
began to cry, "Who goes there? who goes there?" The Fairy opened her
eyes, and the King remained more surprised and more distressed than
it is possible to say. "What do you here, Prince?" said she, sitting
upright; "what has brought you into my room without having sent me word
of your intention?" She would have asked him a thousand other questions
if she had had the time, for the King, more alarmed at her ugliness
than at the menacing tone she gave to her words, allowed her to talk,
and did not answer her. "What would you?" she said again. "Explain your
object."
"I am very sorry, Madam, to have disturbed your rest," at length said
the King; "but not knowing your projects, before I definitively pledge
my word to you I wish to know what you propose to exact from me."
"Would there not have been time to-morrow," said the Fairy, "to have
asked me this mighty question, and was it necessary to awake me for so
silly a purpose? Go to your rest, my Lord, and to-morrow we shall be in
a condition for you to propose, and for me to resolve." The King, truly
seeing no other way of getting out of this embarrassment, was very well
disposed to return to his room, when the Fairy called him back. "Come
here," cried she, "where are you going? Ought you not to apologize for
your imprudence, or do you think you have not committed any?" The King,
annoyed by this fresh obstacle, which prevented him from retiring,
said, "Ah, Madam, do not make me commit a greater fault, in any longer
disturbing your rest; it ought to be precious to me, and the respect
I owe you----" "No, no," replied the Fairy, "approach; I do not wish
to sleep any more, and I will absolutely know what brought you here;
do not fear to offend me, but dread to conceal your feelings from me.
I wish for a candid avowal, and," continued she, looking at him most
affectionately, "I expect you will entertain me as a punishment for
awaking me."
The King, at this disagreeable proposition, thought he should lose all
patience, but being in the power of this terrible person he suppressed
his first movement, and seating himself, out of respect, some distance
from the Fairy's bed, said, "Since you wish it, Madam, I will obey
you. I came, not thinking you were asleep, to ask you to restore the
Princess to her natural form immediately, and to declare, without that,
I cannot follow you to the temple of the rose-tree." "Truly," replied
the Fairy, much annoyed at this commencement, "this is a beautiful
subject to disturb every one about; could not that have been deferred
till to-morrow?" "No, Madam," replied the King, "and I am very sorry
I did not urge it yesterday, without being under the necessity of
waiting another day." "Well," said the Fairy, "what will you do for
me in return, and what have I to expect from your gratitude?" "I have
told you, Madam, the strongest friendship, and all that an affectionate
heart could further give----" "Friendship," replied the Fairy; "no,
no, King Coquerico, it is not at such a price that I dispense my
favours--it must be of more value than that. Shall I tell you what
it is? It is not worth while to wait till to-morrow to inform you. I
cannot ask you for your love, I am convinced of that; you are incapable
of feeling it for me; you have made me sufficiently understand that;
but I will forgive you upon condition that to-morrow you will solemnly
give me your faith."
The King, prepared as he had been for this event by Tigreline,
could not quietly listen to her discourse, and find himself so near
renouncing for ever a Princess whom he loved, without feeling it most
cruelly. "If my heart were free," he replied, in a tone of voice
changed by the excessive effort he made to suppress his fury, "I could
offer you the one or the other; but, Madam, I have disposed of my heart
beyond my own control, and I will not offer you my hand, the possession
of which would make you miserable, for at every instant I should make
you feel, in spite of myself, that, my heart being separated from it,
I was not worthy the honour you conferred on me. The gratitude I owe
you, therefore, obliges me absolutely to refuse you, at the peril
of my life." "We shall see that to-morrow," replied Cornue. "Go and
strengthen or change your noble resolutions; but remember that if you
resist mine, it will not be your life that will answer to me for it. I
shall know how to find, in spite of you, the sensitive place of a heart
you assure me is so indifferent."
The King, maddened by rage and grief, departed, and returned to his own
apartments, where he abandoned himself to the deepest despair. Twenty
times he was about to plunge his sword in his heart, and sacrifice his
life to the Princess; but thinking he might perhaps revenge her, or at
least save her from the fury of the Fairy, he abandoned that frightful
idea, and resolved upon going to the temple of the Rose-tree.
As soon as the morning appeared, the palace of the Fairy resounded
with music and nuptial hymns; she sent to know if the King was ready,
giving an order that they should attend to him as her husband. A
pompous chariot was in the palace court. All the fairies from far and
near were summoned to this ceremony; they arrived from every quarter.
Tigreline only announced that she should be at the temple. At length
the King appeared; his pale and thin face indicated that he was the
victim of the sacrifice, rather than the person to whom it was to be
offered. With all that he was as lovely as the day.
Cornue was attired as a Queen; all the skill in the world had been
employed about her robes. She seated herself with the King in her
chariot, and all the fairies followed according to their rank, riding
upon eagles, dragons, tigers, and leopards. A dozen beautiful young
fairies of the Court of Cornue, led in couples a dozen lions, upon
which, during all the journey, the King had his eyes fixed, seeking to
discover if the unfortunate Lionette were not amongst them. They set
out amidst a flourish of drums and trumpets, and they arrived at the
Sward of Eloquence: the flowers were already on the boundaries, and
formed two ranks six feet high, between which the brilliant procession
passed, amidst loud acclamations and joyous songs.
The temple was crowded. The most beautiful flowers had formed two
thrones of exquisite taste, and the _coup-d'œil_ was enchanting,
so well was everything arranged. The unfortunate Lionette was already
in the temple, and the pleasure of seeing Tigreline there, whom she
remembered directly, had relieved in a slight degree the deep grief she
was in at being compelled to witness the happiness of her cruel rival.
"I shall die, Madam," said she to the Fairy, "but at any rate let the
King know, after my decease, that my affection has equalled his own,
and that I pardon him a fault which fate has made him commit. I do not
condemn him for his inconstancy." She wept so bitterly in finishing
these words, and she was so overcome by the violence of her grief, that
she did not see the King and the Fairy enter. Cornue first approached
the Rose-tree. "I come," said she, "to redeem my word. Divinity of this
place, you demanded of me the sacrifice of a fowl. I have too well
understood your oracle; behold what you required, and I think I shall
interpret your wishes by demanding of him, at the foot of your altar,
the hand he is so reluctant to bestow on me; a sacrifice which is to
him greater than that of his life." The Rose-tree drooped its leaves
and blossoms, as if in approval of the words of the Fairy. Cornue then
turning to the King, who had remained a few steps behind her, said,
"Approach, my Lord, and fulfil the decree of fate." He was at this
moment much more occupied with what he saw than with what was said to
him; he had perceived Tigreline, and he no longer doubted that the
lioness at her side was his divine Princess; he looked at her tenderly
and sorrowfully, not daring, however, to approach her, for fear of
displeasing Tigreline, who had made him a severe sign to prevent him.
Cornue, surprised at his silence, turned towards him, and saw him in
this pleasant occupation; then placing on the altar the crown which
she held in her hand, in order that the King might put it on her head,
she approached him. "What are you about," said she; "is this a time
for dreaming?" "I delay my reply, Madam," said the King, without much
emotion, "till you shall render to the Princess of the Golden Island
the form which you have so unjustly deprived her of; afterwards I will
do what gratitude demands of me, and I will not deceive you." Cornue
perceiving that it was not time to recede, especially as she saw
Tigreline present, her superior in power, and that the day which she
had chosen for this ceremony was precisely that on which the fairies
are subject to death, was very cautious not to let the King know this,
for fear that he should take advantage of those four-and-twenty hours
to revenge himself for the cruelty which she had exercised on him and
the Princess; yet, nevertheless, she was not willing to delay the
fulfilment of her happiness; knowing, therefore, that it was impossible
to deceive the King any longer, she turned to Tigreline, who led the
lioness to the altar. "My Sister," said Cornue, taking off the necklace
and presenting it to Tigreline, "I restore the Princess to you, and you
can use your power to make her resume her proper form, but spare her
the grief of seeing me crowned by the hand of her lover, and depart
with her, as she can never be his."
Tigreline lost not a moment: in lieu of replying to Cornue, the good
Fairy touched the lioness with her wand, and the Princess stood before
them more beautiful and more amiable than ever. She was by the care
of the Fairy clothed magnificently and in the finest taste: she had a
dress of cloth of silver, covered with garlands of everlasting flower
of _gris-de-lin_[46] colour; her beautiful light hair, adorned with
diamonds and the same sort of flowers as those on her dress, fell in
curls on her shoulders, and made her appear more beautiful than the
day. The King was transported: he advanced towards her, and falling on
one knee--"Will you permit, beautiful Princess," said he, "that the
faith which I have plighted you should be taken from you, and that the
unjust Fairy, who has made us so unhappy, should quietly enjoy a crown
which should be yours?"
The Princess Lionette, during the time that her lover was speaking,
kept her eyes tenderly fixed upon him, and by the tears which gently
rolled down her cheeks let him see the effort which she made in giving
him up. "I cannot," said she at length, "oppose fate; yes, my dear
Prince, you must submit; I release you from your vows, live happy
without me, if it be possible for you to do so; and as I must of
necessity lose you, I quit this life without a regret, and am happy in
dying at having been able to tell you once more without its being a
crime that I love you." "Yes, you shall die," cried the furious Cornue;
"I have borne enough insults, and that is another happiness which you
have not counted amongst those you boast of at this fatal moment!"
The King at these words rose from the feet of the Princess, who did
not seem alarmed even at seeing her rival advance towards her with a
poniard in her hand. He arrested the Fairy with one hand, and with the
other drew his sword. "It is I who will perish," cried he, "and you
cannot attempt the life of my Princess, which mine will answer for."
"Oh, heavens!" cried the Fairy and Lionette at the same time. "Hold!"
Tigreline then advanced towards Cornue; she had not spoken till that
moment; she had allowed everything to proceed, and those to speak who
were most anxious to do so. She raised her wand, and touching Cornue,
"Receive," said she, "to-day, the reward of your misdeeds, and witness
in your turn the happiness of these two lovers." At the words Cornue
remained motionless, but her eyes shone with such terrible fury, that,
not being able to find expression for it, her horn seemed on fire, and
she foamed with rage. "And you, wise Rose-tree," continued Tigreline,
"resume your form, and enjoy the pleasure of embracing your amiable
daughter." She had not finished these words when the Rose-tree, bending
itself a little, appeared in its true form.
It was that of a man about fifty years of age, nobly made, and
magnificently attired; he had a long regal mantle, and a crown of
gold, set with precious stones, on his head. Lionette resembled him so
extremely that no one in the whole assembly could doubt she was his
daughter. That beautiful Princess threw herself into his arms with so
much natural delight, that all the company were affected by it. The
good King received her with transports of joy, which would have been
more prolonged if he had not perceived at his feet the young King of
the Fortunate Islands, who embraced his knees. He quitted his daughter
a moment to raise the handsome Coquerico. "I give you my daughter,"
said he to him, embracing him. "Receive her, my Lord, and live as
happily as I have seen you miserable. I add my crown to this gift, and
though I do not expect it will increase your happiness, judging by the
vexations it has brought on me, still, such as it is, I give it to my
daughter to present to you."
At this moment the King would have taken off his crown, but the young
King cried, "No, sire, you shall not cease to reign: the charming, the
tender Lionette fulfils all my wishes, and my crown is at her feet.
Permit us to live with you, and let nothing separate us any more."
Tigreline applauded this mark of generosity in King Coquerico; and
taking Lionette by the hand, she presented her to him. He received
her with transports of love more easily imagined than described. Then
raising his crown, and placing one knee on the ground, he presented it
to Lionette, who accepted it as she plighted her troth to him.
The Temple resounded with the nuptial hymn. It was only interrupted
by Cornue, who uttered a piercing cry, and expired, it being her day
of doom. Her death caused no extraordinary sensation. The young King
and the Princess alone appeared affected by the result of her despair.
Tigreline had her carried away, and the ceremony was concluded. King
Coquerico then turning towards the King, his father-in-law, asked him
if he wished to witness the coronation of the Queen Lionette, or if
he would prefer waiting where he was for some days. "And I," said
Lionette, "I would entreat a favour of the kind Tigreline, and of my
dear husband, if I dare speak at this moment." "My dear Princess,"
replied the King, tenderly, "what do you fear?" "I would, then," said
the Princess, "that, disembarrassed of the cares of government, we
could live here always, and that, content with my happiness, I might be
occupied with nothing but the pleasure of enjoying it. It is here that
I have regained what is to me most valuable. What signifies to me the
rest of the world if I live with these two persons; and if you, Madam,"
added she, addressing the Fairy, "deign to come and see me, and restore
to me my two unfortunate guardians?" "I consent," said the two Kings
at once. "Yes, my daughter," said the Fairy in her turn, "I approve of
these noble sentiments, and you shall live here as a Queen, but without
feeling the inconvenience of it. You shall both also enjoy the gift of
fairydom. I bestow it on you."
Then touching the hedges that formed the walls of the temple, the whole
structure was changed into a palace of emeralds so brilliant and so
magnificent, that never was anything seen to equal it. The flowers
became living and speaking persons, having as the sole mark of their
transformation a flower of their name on the head. The greensward
became a magnificent garden: on one side appeared a vast forest, at
one end of which the Fairy caused to be built a little palace of
rose-colour and white marble; and at the other, one of rock crystal,
in which she had the kindness to place the fine model of the universe,
which had been the delight of the King in his youth. The Princess was
enchanted. "It is for me," said the King, "an inestimable gift--it will
recall to me without ceasing the pleasure I have enjoyed in exploring
it in search of my dear Princess." "And I," said she, "will hold it
dear, because it has taught you that I was occupied with your memory."
The Fairy was charmed to see them so happy, with a degree of love so
little known in our time or even in that at which they lived. "Love
each other always thus, my children," said she, embracing them; "I
can give you nothing preferable to that blessing; it is the only
real happiness." She then made them observe that each palace had its
separate gardens, its cascades, fountains, and charming flower-beds.
On the other side of the garden was a large and flowing river, upon
which were a thousand superb gondolas, silver and _gris-de-lin_, which
wound round towards a castle built entirely of flowers, the marvellous
variety of which had an admirable effect, and crowning the summit of
a mountain with terraces laid out as gardens, descending to the brink
of the river, and which served as a country house to the Palace of
Emeralds. "I give you all this," said Tigreline, embracing Lionette;
"live here, my children, millions of years; your subjects will love
you, and never betray you. If you wish for more, a touch of this wand,"
said she, giving hers to Lionette, "will change all the flowers into
speaking and rational beings, and they will become flowers again at
your will."
The King and Lionette threw themselves at the feet of the Fairy, and
thanked her heartily. She raised them, and again embraced them. "Wave
your wand," said she to the Princess, "that your guardians may have
the pleasure of being recalled by yourself." The beautiful Lionette
quickly made this first trial of her power; the good people appeared
immediately. She ran to embrace them, but they feared to receive her
caresses; the beautiful Queen, however, pressed them to her heart
so affectionately that they at length returned her embraces with a
tenderness which drew tears from all beholders. The Queen seeing them
so aged and decrepit, turned her beautiful eyes, full of tears, on
the Fairy, who comprehended what she suffered. "I like to see so much
sensibility, madam," said Tigreline; "use your power, you cannot employ
it better than in the way you at present desire." She had not finished
these words, when the old man and his wife appeared to be,--he a man
of twenty years, and the old woman a girl of eighteen. They threw
themselves at the feet of the Fairy, and kissed the hands of the Queen,
who, delighted to see them so young and amiable, embraced the Fairy to
thank her for this great favour.
The good King then addressed his daughter, who turned her eyes
affectionately on him, "Do not confer on me the same gift, my dear
daughter; I do not wish to possess second youth. I see you happy, that
is the only thing which would affect me; I shall never be sensible of
greater joy; leave to the gods the disposal of my days." "It is for
me," said the Fairy, "to render them happy; you shall live, Sire,
till you are sufficiently tired of life to wish to lose it. Adieu; my
affairs compel me now to leave you, but I shall speedily see you again."
The Queen conducted the Fairy to her car, the two Kings handed her into
it, after which they returned to the Palace, where, charmed with each
other's society, they passed their golden days, more happy than they
had ever been miserable. They lived millions of years, and the King
and Queen presented the world with fairies and beneficent genii, who
are at this moment actually occupied in promoting the happiness of the
universe.