figure of a young girl, who seemed to be about fifteen or sixteen years old. Her beauty seemed to shine with an almost unearthly radiance. He drew near in trembling wonder, and knelt down by her side.
Just then, as the end of her enchantment was come, the princess woke, and looking at him with a glance more tender than a moment’s acquaintance would seem to warrant, “Is it you, my prince?” said she. “How long you have kept me waiting!” The prince, charmed with these words, and still more with the manner in which they were spoken, did not know how to express his joy. He assured her that he loved her more than himself. They did not use any fine phrases, these two, but they were none the less happy on that account. Where love is, what need of eloquence? He was more at a loss than she, and small wonder! She had had plenty of time to think over what she was going to say! Anyhow, they talked together for four hours, and they had not even then said half of what was in their hearts. “Can it be, beautiful princess,” said the prince, looking at her with eyes that told a thousand things more than tongue could utter, “can it be that some kindly fate ordained that I should be born expressly for you? Can it be that these beautiful eyes only open for me—that all the kings of the earth, with all their power, could not do what my love has done? ” “Yes, my dear prince,” replied the princess; “I knew at first sight that we were born for each other. It is you that I saw, that I talked with, that I loved, all through my long sleep. It was with your image that the fairy filled my dreams. I knew that he who would come to free me from my spell would be lovelier than love itself; that he would love me more than his own life; and directly you came to me, I recognized him in you.”
In the meantime, everybody in the palace had woken up at the same moment as the princess. Each began worrying about his or her duties, and as they were not all lovers, they
