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THE PRINCESS CARPILLON.

good mother," said she, "some time ago I found this ring; I do not know its value; but I suppose it is worth some money: I beg of you to accept it, as a proof of my gratitude for your charity towards me, and I further entreat you to buy me some dresses and linen, that I may appear like the shepherdesses of this country." The Queen was surprised to see so beautiful a ring in the possession of this young girl. "I will take care of it for you," said she, "but not accept it; be assured you will have from this morning all that is requisite for you." She then sent to a small town, not very far off, and desired them to bring the prettiest peasant's dress that had ever been seen. The head-dress, the shoes, all was complete; thus attired, she appeared more charming than Aurora. The Prince also had not been neglectful of himself; he had put round his hat a wreath of flowers; the scarf by which his scrip was tied and his hook were also ornamented with them. He carried a bouquet to Carpillon, and presented it with the timidity of a lover; she received it with much embarrassment, although she had infinite good sense. Whenever she was with him, she hardly ever spoke, and was always in deep thought. It was much the same with him. When he went hunting, instead of pursuing the hinds and the deer that he met with, if he found a fitting spot for indulging in thoughts of the charming Carpillon, he would suddenly stop and remain in that solitary place, making verses, singing couplets in praise of his shepherdess, talking to the rocks, to the woods, to the trees; he had lost all that joyous spirit which had caused the shepherds so eagerly to seek his company.

But as it is difficult to be much in love and not to fear those whom we love, he was so dreadfully afraid he should offend his shepherdess by declaring his passion for her, that he dare not speak; and although she saw plainly enough, that he preferred her to every one else, and that this preference ought to assure her of his sentiments, she was sometimes troubled at his silence, and sometimes she was pleased at it. "If it be true," said she, "that he loves me, how ought I to receive such a declaration? If I am angry with him, I shall perhaps kill him; and if I am not angry with him, I shall die myself of shame and grief. What! born a Princess, should I listen to a shepherd? Ah, what unworthy weakness! I will never consent to it; my heart should not change, as I change my