Princess Aimée." In short, she shut herself up in one of the largest flowers, as in a palace; and true love, which is never without its consolations, found some even in this union.
The wood in which the Orange-tree was situated was the favourite promenade of a princess who lived hard by in a magnificent palace. She was young, beautiful, and witty: they called her Linda. She would not marry, because she feared she should not be always loved by the person she might choose for a husband; and as she was very wealthy, she built a sumptuous castle, and received there only ladies, and old men (more philosophers than gallants), permitting no young cavalier to approach it. The heat of the day having detained her a longer time than she wished in her apartments, she went out in the evening, with all her ladies, and came to walk in the wood. The perfume from the Orange-tree surprised her; she had never seen one, and she was charmed to have found it. She could not understand by what chance she had met with it in such a place. It was soon surrounded by all the company. Linda forbade any one to pick a single flower, and they carried the tree into her garden, whither the faithful Bee followed it. Linda, enchanted with its delicious odour, seated herself beneath it. Before returning to the palace, she was about to gather a few of the blossoms, when the vigilant Bee sallied out humming under the leaves, where she remained as sentinel, and stung the princess so severely, that she very nearly fainted. There was an end of depriving the Orange-tree of its blossoms; Linda returned to her palace, quite ill. When the Prince was at liberty to speak to Aimée, "What made you so vexed with young Linda, my dear Bee?" said he to her; "you have stung her cruelly." "Can you ask me such a question?" replied she. "Have you not sufficient delicacy to understand that you ought not to have any sweets but for me; that all that is yours belongs to me, and that I defend my property when I defend your blossoms?" "But," said he, "you see them fall without being distressed: would it not be the same to you if the princess adorned herself with them—if she placed them in her hair, or put them in her bosom?" "No," said the Bee, in a sharp tone, "it is not at all the same thing to me. I know, ungrateful one, that you feel more for her than you do for me. There is also a great difference between an accomplished person, richly dressed,
