good place in her heart. "I did not think," said Brilliante, "to find here so favourable a reception, and so much politeness; I assure you, my good mother, that I am delighted to be with you. Do not refuse," continued she, addressing the shepherd, "to tell me your name, that I may know to whom I owe this service." "They call me Sans-pair," replied the Prince, "but now I will have no other name than that of your slave." "And I," said the little old woman, "I wish also to know the name of the shepherdess to whom I offer hospitality." The Princess told her she was called Brilliante. The old woman seemed charmed with so lovely a name, and Sans-pair said a hundred pretty things about it. The old shepherdess, fearing that Brilliante was hungry, set before her a very clean bowl full of new milk with brown bread, new-laid eggs, fresh butter, and a cream cheese. Sans-pair ran to his cottage, and brought from it strawberries, nuts, cherries, and other fruits; and in order to stay longer with Brilliante, he asked permission to eat his dinner with her. Alas, how difficult it would have been for her to have refused him! She had great pleasure in beholding him, and whatever coldness she affected, she was well aware that his presence was not indifferent to her.
After he left her, she thought about him for a long time, and he of her. He saw her every day; he led his flock to the spot where she fed her own; he sang beside her the most passionate songs; he played on the flute and the bagpipe while she danced; and she displayed such grace, and kept such perfect time, that he could not sufficiently admire her. Each in their own minds reflected on the surprising chain of adventures which had occurred to them, and each became restless. Sans-pair followed her, assiduously, everywhere—
In short, whene'er he found the maid alone,[1]
So well he painted all the rapture known
By two fond hearts in Cupid's bonds united,
That she discover'd shortly that the flame,
To which she scarcely dared to give a name,
By Love himself had certainly been lighted.
And seeing all the danger that she ran,—
- ↑ I am at a loss to know why Madame D'Aulnoy ran the following very prosaic lines into rhyme, as they are simply a portion of the narrative. I felt, however, bound to follow her example.
