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THE GOLDEN BRANCH.

I beg you to let me know the cause." "Alas, good mother!" answered Sans-pair, "I deplore the absence of a lovely shepherdess who flies me. I have resolved to search through all the world until I find her." "Go in that direction, my child," said the old woman to him, pointing towards the castle where poor Brilliante had become a grasshopper; "I have a presentiment that you will not seek her long." Sans-pair thanked her, and prayed the god of love to befriend him.

The Prince met with no adventure on the road of sufficient consequence to detain him; but, on reaching the wood close to the castle of the Magician and his sister, he thought he saw his shepherdess, and hastened to follow her. She glided away from him. "Brilliante!" he cried, "adorable Brilliante!—stay one instant!—deign to listen to me!" The phantom flitted still faster, and in its pursuit he passed the remainder of the day. When night came on, he saw a great many lights in the castle; he flattered himself his shepherdess might be there. He ran towards it, and entered without any difficulty. He ascended a staircase, and saw, in a magnificent saloon, a tall old Fairy, horribly thin; her eyes resembled two burnt-out lamps; you could see through her jaws. Her arms were like laths, her fingers like knitting-needles,[1] a skin of black shagreen[2] covered her skeleton; yet with all this she wore rouge and patches, pink and green ribands, a mantle of silver brocade, a crown of diamonds on her head, and a profusion of jewels all about her.

"At last, Prince," said she to him, "you have arrived, where I have long wished to see you. Think no more of your little shepherdess; a passion for one so much your inferior should make you blush. I am the Queen of Meteors. I am your friend, and can be of infinite service to you if you love me." "Love you!" exclaimed the Prince, looking at her contemptuously; "love you, Madam!—Am I master of my heart? No; I will never be unfaithful; and I feel that even could I change, it is not you who would ever be the object of my affections. Choose amongst your meteors some influence which may suit you. Love the air,—love the winds,—and leave mortals in peace."

  1. "Fuseaux" i.e. Fuseaux à dentelle.
  2. Peau de chagrin noir. Shagreen is now an article almost obsolete; it was a skin much used during the past century for watch and spectacle cases.