Header Ads Widget

Responsive Advertisement

Ticker

6/recent/ticker-posts

The Bee and the Orange Tree - a fairy tale by Marie-Catherine d'Aulnoy

 Read "The Bee and the Orange Tree" fairy tale for all children. "The Bee and the Orange Tree" story, is a bedtime Story for kids written by Marie-Catherine d'Aulnoy or Countess d'Aulnoy or Madame d'Aulnoy about a King and a Queen who had no children, and although the queen was a little old, she still managed to give birth to a beautiful girl like no other in the world. They named her Aimee and the queen put a turquoise medallion around the girls' necks to bring her luck in life. Unfortunately, the medallion did not bring her luck, because one day when the nurse took the girl to sea in a small boat, a storm broke out that shattered the boat. The girl floated on the sea until she arrived on a beautiful island but inhabited by cannibals. Because the captain's wife was half fairy, she smelled the girl and found her on the beach. She took pity on the girl and took her home so that when she grew up she would marry one of her sons.

"The Bee and the Orange Tree"
a fairy tale by Marie-Catherine d'Aulnoy or Countess d'Aulnoy or Madame d'Aulnoy
The fairy tale was also translated as The Orange-Tree and the Bee.


There was once upon a time a King and a Queen who wanted nothing to make them happy but children. The Queen was already aged; she had lost all hopes of having any—when she found herself likely to become a mother, and in due time brought into the world the most beautiful girl that was ever seen. Joy was extreme in the palace; each person was endeavouring to find a name for the Princess that would express their feeling towards her. At last they called her Aimée. The Queen had engraved upon a turquoise-heart the name of Aimée, daughter of the King of the Happy Island; she tied it round the Princess's neck, believing that the turquoise would bring her good fortune. But the rule failed in this case; for one day, when, to amuse the nurse, they took her out to sea in the finest summer weather, all at once there arose so tremendous a tempest that it was impossible to land, and as she was in a little boat, which was only used for pleasure trips close in-shore, it soon went to pieces. The nurse and all the sailors perished. The little Princess, who was sleeping in her cradle, remained floating upon the water, and was ultimately thrown by the waves on the coast of a very pretty country, but which was scarcely inhabited since the Ogre Ravagio and his wife Tourmentine had come to live there: they ate up everybody. The Ogres are terrible people: when once they have tasted fresh meat (it is thus they term human flesh), they will hardly ever eat anything else; and Tourmentine always found out some secret manner of attracting a victim, for she was half a fairy.

​A league off she smelt the poor little Princess; she ran to the shore in search of her before Ravagio could find her. They were equally greedy, and never were seen such hideous figures, each with one squinting eye in the middle of the forehead, a mouth as large as that of an oven, a nose large and flat, long asses' ears, hair standing on end, and humps behind and before. When Tourmentine, however, saw Aimée in her rich cradle, wrapped in swaddling-clothes of gold brocade, playing with her little hands, her cheeks resembling the white rose mixed with the carnation, and her little vermilion smiling mouth half open, which seemed to smile at the horrid monster who came to devour her, the Ogress, touched with pity she had never felt before, resolved to nurse it, and if she did eat it, not to do so directly. She took the child in her arms, tied the cradle on her back, and in this manner she returned to her cave. "Look, Ravagio," said she to her husband, "here is some fresh meat, very plump, very tender; but, by my head! thou shalt not touch it with teeth,—it is a beautiful little girl. I shall bring it up, and we will marry her to our son; they will have some extraordinary little Ogres, and that will amuse us in our old age."—"Well said," replied Ravagio; "thou art wise, as thou art great. Let me look at the child—it seems wonderfully beautiful!" "Do not eat it!" said Tourmentine, putting the child in his great clutches. "No, no," said he: "I would rather die of hunger." Here, then, were Ravagio, Tourmentine, and the young Ogre, caressing Aimée in so tender a manner that it was miraculous.

But the poor child, who only saw these deformed creatures around her, and not her nurse, began to put up its lip, and then she cried lustily; Ravagio's cavern echoed with it. Tourmentine, fearing the noise would frighten her still more, took and carried her into the wood, her children following her. She had six—each one uglier than the other. She was half a fairy, as I have said before; her power consisted in a little ivory wand, which she held in her hand when she wished for anything. She took the wand then, and said, "I wish, in the name of the royal fairy, Trufio, that the most beautiful hind in our forests, gentle and tame, would leave its fawn, and come hither directly, and nurse this little creature that Fortune has sent me." Immediately a hind appeared; the little Ogres welcomed her kindly; she drew ​near, and suckled the Princess. Tourmentine carried her back to her grotto; the hind ran skipping and gamboling after them, and the child looked at it and fondled it. When she was in her cradle and cried, the hind was always ready to feed her, and the little Ogre rocked her.

Thus was the King's daughter brought up, while they deplored her loss night and day; and believing she was drowned, the King thought of choosing an heir. He spoke to the Queen upon the subject, who told him to do what he judged proper—that her dear Aimée was dead—that she had no hope of any more children—that he had waited long enough—and that, as fifteen years had elapsed since she had the misery of losing her daughter, it would be folly now to expect her return. The King decided upon asking his brother to select amongst his sons the one he thought most worthy to reign, and to send him without delay to him. The ambassadors, having received their credentials and all necessary instruction, departed. It was a great distance off; they were embarked on board some fine vessels. The wind was favourable, and they arrived in a short time at the palace of the King's brother, who was in possession of a large kingdom. He received them very graciously; and when they asked him permission to take back with them one of his sons to succeed their master the King, he wept for joy; and told them that since his brother left the choice to him, he would send him the one he would have taken for himself; which was the second of his sons, whose inclinations were so well suited to the greatness of his birth, that he found him perfect in everything he could wish him to be. They sent for the Prince Aimé, (so was he called,) and however prejudiced in his favour the ambassadors were previously, they were perfectly astonished when they saw him. He was eighteen years old. Love, the young god of love himself, was less beautiful—but it was a beauty which detracted nothing from that noble and martial air which inspires respect and affection. He was informed of the anxiety of the King his uncle to have him near him; and of the intention of the King his father to hasten his departure. They prepared his equipage. He took his leave, embarked, and put to sea. Let him sail on; let Fortune guide him!

We will now return to Ravagio, and see what is occupying ​our young Princess. Her beauty increased with her age, and they might well say of her that Love, the Graces, and all the goddesses combined, never possessed so many charms. It appeared, when she was in the dark cavern with Ravagio, Tourmentine, and the young Ogres, that the sun, stars, and skies had descended into it. The cruelty of these monsters had the effect of making her still gentler; and from the moment she was aware of their terrible inclination for human flesh, she was always endeavouring to save the unfortunate people who fell into their hands, so much so that she often exposed herself to their fury. She would have been sacrificed to it had not the young Ogre guarded her like the apple of his eye. Ah! what will not love do? This little monster's nature had become softened by seeing and loving this beautiful Princess; but, alas! what was her grief when she thought she must marry this detestable lover! Although she knew nothing of her birth, she had rightly guessed from her rich clothes, the gold chain, and the turquoise, that she was of good birth, and she believed so still more from the feelings of her heart. She neither knew how to read or write, nor any language; she spoke the jargon of the Ogres; she lived in perfect ignorance of all worldly matters; she possessed, however, as fine principles of virtue, and as sweet and unaffected manners, as though she had been brought up in the most polished court in the universe. She had made herself a tiger-skin dress, her arms were half naked, she wore a quiver and arrows over her shoulder, and a bow at her side. Her fair hair was fastened only by a platted band of sea-rushes, and floated in the breeze over her neck and shoulders. She also wore buckskins, made of the same rush. In this attire, she walked about the woods like a second Diana; and she would never have known she was beautiful if the crystal fountains had not been innocent mirrors for her—which she gazed into without their inducing her to be vain, or think more of herself. The sun had a similar effect upon her complexion, as upon wax; it made it whiter, and the sea air could not tan it. She never ate anything but what she took in hunting or fishing, and under this pretext she often absented herself from the horrible cavern, to avoid looking at the most deformed objects in nature. "Heavens!" cried she, in shedding tears, "what have I done, that thou hast destined me to be the ​bride of this cruel little Ogre? Why didst thou not leave me to perish in the sea? Why didst thou preserve a life, that must be spent in this deplorable manner? Hast thou not some compassion for my grief?" She thus addressed the gods, and implored their aid.

When the weather was rough, and she thought the sea had cast some unfortunate persons on shore, she would carefully go and assist them, and prevent them from approaching the Ogres' cavern. It had been blowing fearfully throughout one night: she arose as soon as it was day, and ran towards the sea. She perceived a man, who, with his arms locked round a plank, was trying to gain the shore, notwithstanding the violence of the waves, which continually repulsed him. The Princess was most anxious to help him; she made signs to him, to indicate the easiest landing places; but he neither saw nor heard her. Sometimes he came so close, that it appeared he had but one step to make, when a wave would cover him, and he disappeared. At last he was thrown upon the sand, and lay stretched on it without motion. Aimée drew near him, and, notwithstanding his death-like appearance, she rendered him all the assistance she could. She always carried about her certain herbs, the odour of which was so powerful, it recovered any one from the longest fainting-fit. She pressed them in her hands, and rubbed his lips and temples with some of them. He opened his eyes, and was so astonished at the beauty and the dress of the Princess, that he could hardly determine if it were a dream or reality. He spoke first; she spoke in her turn. They could not understand each other, and looked at one another with much attention, mingled with astonishment and pleasure. The Princess had only seen some poor fishermen that the Ogres had entrapped, and whom she had saved, as I have already said. What must she, then, have thought, when she saw the handsomest and best made man in the world, most magnificently dressed! It was, in short, the Prince Aimé, her cousin-german, whose fleet, driven by a tempest, had gone to pieces on these shoals, and their crews, at the mercy of the winds and waves, had perished, or been cast upon unknown shores. The young Prince, for his part, was astonished at seeing so beautiful a creature, in such savage attire, and in so deserted a country; and the remembrance of the princes and ladies he had so recently quitted, ​only served to convince him that the being he now beheld far surpassed them all. In this mutual astonishment they continued to talk, without being understood by each other; their looks and their actions being the sole interpreters of their thoughts: when, after some moments, the Princess suddenly recollecting to what danger this stranger was about to be exposed, the deepest melancholy and dejection became expressed in her countenance. The Prince, fearing she was about to faint, evinced great anxiety, and would have taken her hand, but she repulsed him, and endeavoured, as well as she could, to impress upon him that he must go away. She began to run before him; then returned, and made signs to him to do so. He accordingly ran from her, and returned. When he returned, she was angry with him; she took her arrows, and pointed them to her heart, to signify to him that he would be killed. He thought she wished to kill him; he knelt on one knee, and awaited the blow. When she saw that, she knew not what to do, or how to express herself; and, looking at him tenderly, "What," said she, "must thou, then, be the victim of my frightful hosts?—must these very eyes, which now gaze on thee with so much pleasure, see thee torn in pieces, and devoured without mercy?" She wept; and the Prince was quite at a loss to comprehend the meaning of her actions. She succeeded, however, in making him understand she did not wish him to follow her. She took him by the hand, and led him into a cave in a rock, the mouth of which opened towards the sea. It was very deep: she often went there to deplore her misfortunes; sometimes she slept there, when the sun was too powerful to return to the Ogres' cavern; and, as she had great neatness and skill, she had furnished it with hangings of butterflies' wings, of various colours; and upon canes, twisted and passed one within the other, which formed a sort of couch, she had spread a carpet of sea-rushes. She had placed clusters of flowers in large and deep shells, answering the purpose of vases, which she filled with water, to preserve her bouquets. There were a thousand pretty little things she had manufactured, some with fish-bones and shells, and others with the sea-rush and cane; and these articles, notwithstanding their simplicity, were so exquisitely made, it was easy to judge from them of the good taste and ingenuity of the Princess. The Prince was perfectly surprised ​at it all, and thought it was in this place that she lived. He was delighted to be there with her; and although he was not happy enough to make her understand the admiration with which she inspired him, it already appeared he preferred seeing and living near her, to all the crowns to which his birth and the will of his relations could call him. She made him sit down; and, to indicate that she wished him to remain till she could procure him something to eat, she unfastened the band from her hair, put it round the Prince's arm, and tied him to the couch, and then left him. He was dying to follow her, but was afraid of displeasing her, and became lost in reflections, from which he had been diverted by the presence of the Princess. "Where am I?" said he. "Into what country has fortune led me? My vessels are lost, my people are drowned, and I have nothing left. Instead of the crown that was offered me, I find a gloomy rock, in which I seek a shelter. What will become of me here? What sort of people shall I find here? If I am to judge from the person who has assisted me, they are all divinities; but the fear she had that I should follow her—the rude and barbarous language which sounded so badly from her beautiful mouth, induces me to think something still more unfortunate will happen to me than has already occurred." He then applied himself entirely to reviewing in his mind all the incomparable charms of the young savage: his heart was on fire; he became impatient that she did not return, and her absence appeared the greatest of all evils to him. She returned as quickly as she possibly could. She had thought of nothing but the Prince; and such tender feelings were so new to her, that she was not on her guard against that with which he was inspiring her. She thanked heaven for having saved him from the dangers of the sea, and she prayed it to preserve him from the peril he ran in being so near the Ogres. She was so excited, and she had walked so rapidly that when she arrived she felt rather oppressed by the heavy tiger's skin which served as a mantle for her. She sat down; the Prince placed himself at her feet, much moved by her sufferings: he certainly was worse than she was. As soon as she recovered from her faintness, she displayed all the little dainties she had brought him; among others, four parrots and six squirrels, cooked by the sun; strawberries, cherries, raspberries, and other fruits. The ​plates were of cedar and eagle-wood,[1] the knife of stone, the table-napkins of large leaves of trees, very soft and pliable; there was a shell to drink out of, and another filled with beautiful water. The Prince expressed his gratitude to her by all the signs he could of head and of hands, and she with a sweet smile made him understand that all he did was agreeable to her. But the hour of separation having arrived, she made him so perfectly understand that they must part, that they both began to sigh, and hid their tears from each other. She arose, and would have gone, but the Prince uttered a loud cry, and threw himself at her feet, begging her to remain. She saw clearly what he meant, but she repulsed him with a little air of severity; and he felt he must accustom himself by times to obey her.

To tell the truth he passed a miserable night; that of the Princess was not any better. When she returned to the cavern, and found herself surrounded by the Ogres and their children,—when she contemplated the frightful little Ogre, as the monster that would become her husband, and thought of the charms of the stranger she had just quitted,—she felt inclined to throw herself head foremost into the sea;—added to all this, the fear that Ravagio, or Tourmentine, would smell fresh meat, and that they would go straightway to the rock, and devour Prince Aimé.

These various fears kept her awake all night; she arose at daybreak, and went to the seashore; she ran, she flew there, laden with parrots, monkeys, and a bustard; fruits, milk, and everything of the best. The Prince had not taken off his clothes, he had suffered so much from fatigue at sea, and had slept so little, that towards the morning he had fallen into a doze. "What!" said she, in awaking him; "I have thought of you ever since I left you; I have not even closed my eyes, and you are able to sleep!" The Prince looked at her, and listened without understanding her. In his turn he spoke, "What joy, my darling," said he to her, kissing her hands; "what joy it is to see you again! It appears an age since you left this rock." He talked some ​time to her before he remembered she could not understand him; when he recollected it, he sighed heavily, and was silent. She then took up the conversation, and told him she was dreadfully alarmed that Ravagio and Tourmentine would discover him; that she dared not hope he could be in safety in the rock for any length of time; that if he went away she should die, but that she would sooner consent to that than expose him to be devoured; that she entreated him to fly. At this point tears filled her eyes; she clasped her hands before him in the most supplicating manner; he could not understand at all what she meant, he was in despair, and threw himself at her feet. At last she so frequently pointed out the way to him that he understood some of her signs, and he in his turn explained to her that he would rather die than leave her. She was so touched with this proof of the Prince's affection for her, that she took from her arm the chain of gold, with the turquoise heart, that the Queen, her mother, had hung round her neck, and tied it round his arm in the most gracious manner. Transported as he was by this favour, he failed not to perceive the characters engraved on the turquoise. He examined them attentively, and read, "Aimée, daughter of the King of the Happy Island." No astonishment could equal his; he knew that the little Princess who had perished was called Aimée; he had no doubt this heart belonged to her, but he was ignorant if this beautiful savage was the Princess, or whether the sea had thrown this trinket on the sands. He looked at Aimée with the most extraordinary attention, and the more he looked at her the more he discovered a certain family expression and features; and from the particular feelings at his heart, he felt convinced that the savage maiden must be his cousin. She was perfectly astonished at his actions, lifting his eyes to heaven in token of thanks, looking at her and weeping, taking her hands and kissing them vehemently; he thanked her for her generosity, and fastening the trinket again on her arm, signified to her he would rather have a lock of her hair, which he begged of her, and which he had much trouble in obtaining. Four days passed thus; the Princess carried him every morning the food he required. She remained with him as long as she possibly could, and the hours passed quickly away, although they could not converse together. One evening that she returned ​rather late, and expected to be scolded by the terrible Tourmentine, she was much surprised at being favourably received; and finding a table covered with fruits, she asked to be allowed to take some. Ravagio told her that they were intended for her; that the young Ogre had been gathering them, and that it was now time to make him happy; that three days hence he wished her to marry him. What tidings! Could there be any in the world more dreadful for this amiable Princess! She thought she should die of fright and grief; but, concealing her affliction, she replied she would obey them without repugnance, provided they would give her a little longer time. Ravagio became angry, and said, "What should prevent my instantly devouring you?" The poor Princess fainted with fear in the claws of Tourmentine and the young Ogre, who loved her dearly, and who entreated Ravagio so much that he appeased him. Aimée did not sleep an instant; she waited for daylight with impatience. As soon as it appeared, she flew to the rock, and when she saw the Prince she uttered sad cries, and shed rivers of tears. He remained almost motionless; his love for the beautiful Aimée had increased in four days, more than a common passion would have done in four years; he was dying to ask her what had happened. She knew he could not understand her, and could think of no mode of explanation. At last she untied her long hair—she put a wreath of flowers on her head, and taking Aimé's hand, she made signs, expressing that they intended she was to do so with another. He comprehended the misery that was threatening him, and that they were going to marry her. He felt he should expire at her feet; he knew neither the roads, nor the means of saving her, nor did she. They shed tears together—looked at each other—and mutually signified it would be better to die together than to be separated. She stayed with him till the evening; but as night advanced sooner than they expected it, and being deep in thought, she did not attend to the paths she took; she entered a part of the wood very little frequented, and where a long thorn pierced her foot through and through: happily for her she was not far from the cavern. She had much trouble in reaching it—her foot was all over blood. Ravagio, Tourmentine, and the young Ogres, came to her assistance. She suffered great pain when they took out the ​thorn; they gathered herbs, and applied them to her foot; and she retired, very uneasy, as may be imagined, about her dear Prince. "Alas!" said she, "I shall not be able to walk to-morrow; what will he think, if he does not see me? I made him understand they intended marrying me; he will think I have not been able to prevent it; who will feed him? However he may act, it will be death to him; if he come to seek me, he is lost; if I send one of the young Ogres to him, Ravagio will know of it." She burst into tears; she sighed; and would rise early in the morning; but it was impossible for her to walk; her wound was too painful; and Tourmentine, who saw her creeping out, stopped her, and said if she took another step she would eat her.

In the meantime the Prince, finding her usual hour for being with him was passed, became distressed and frightened; the faster the time flew, the more his fears increased; all the punishments in the world would have appeared less terrible to him than the anxieties to which his love consigned him. He constrained himself to have patience, but the longer he waited, the less hope he had. At length he determined to die, and rushed out resolved at all risks to seek his amiable princess. He walked on, he knew not whither; he followed a beaten path that he saw at the entrance of the wood; after walking for about an hour, he heard a noise, and perceived the cavern, from whence came a thick smoke; he expected he should obtain some information there. He entered; and he had scarcely taken a step when he saw Ravagio, who, instantly seizing him with immense strength, would have devoured him, had not the cries he uttered in defending himself reached the ears of his dear love. At the sound of that voice she felt nothing could stop her; she rushed out of the hole she slept in, and entered that part of the cavern where Ravagio was holding the poor Prince; she was pale and trembling as though he would have eaten her. She threw herself upon her knees before him, and entreated him to keep this fresh meat for the day of her marriage with the young Ogre, and she herself would eat him. At these words Ravagio was so satisfied to think the Princess would follow their customs, that he let go the Prince, and shut him up in the hole where the young Ogres slept. Aimée begged to be allowed to feed him, that he might not get thin, and that he might ​do honour to the nuptial repast. The Ogre consented to it; she took the best of everything to the Prince. When he saw her enter his joy diminished his wretchedness, but his grief was renewed when she showed him her wounded foot. They wept together for some time. The Prince could not eat, but his dear mistress cut such delicate pieces with her own hands, and presented them to him with so much kindness, that it was impossible to refuse them. She made the young Ogres bring fresh moss, which she covered with birds' feathers, and caused the Prince to understand it was for his bed. Tourmentine called her; she could only bid adieu to him by stretching out her hand; he kissed it with transports of affection which cannot be described, and in her eyes he read the expression of her feelings. Ravagio, Tourmentine, and the Princess, slept in one of the recesses of the cavern. The young Ogre, and five little Ogres, slept in the other, where the Prince was. It is the custom in Ogreland, that the Ogre, Ogress, and the young Ogres, always sleep in their fine gold crowns. This is the only pomp they indulge in; and they would rather be hung or strangled than forego it. When they were all asleep, the Princess, who was thinking of her lover, remembered, that although Ravagio and Tourmentine had given her their word of honour they would not eat him; if they felt hungry in the night, (which was almost always the case when there was fresh meat near them,) it would be all over with him; and the anxiety occasioned by this horrid thought, wrought on her to such a degree, she was ready to die with fright. After pondering for some time, she arose, hastily threw on her tiger-skin, and groping her way without making any noise, she entered the cavern, where the little Ogres were asleep. She took the crown from the head of the first she came to, and put it upon that of the Prince, who was wide awake, but did not dare appear to be, not knowing who was performing this ceremony. The Princess then returned to her own little bed. She had scarcely crept into it, when Ravagio, dreaming of the good meal he might have made of the Prince, and his appetite increasing while he thought of it, arose in his turn, and went into the hole where the little Ogres were sleeping. As he could not distinctly see, fearing he should make a mistake, he felt about with his hand, and throwing himself upon the one who had no crown on, crunched ​him, as he would a chicken. The poor Princess, who heard the cracking of the bones of the unfortunate creature he was eating, was faint and dying with fear that it might be her lover; and the Prince, for his part, who was much nearer, was a prey to all the terrors consequent on such a situation. Morning relieved the Princess of her terrible anxiety; she quickly sought for the Prince, and by her signs, made him sufficiently understand her fears, and her impatience to see him safe from the murderous teeth of these monsters. She spoke kindly to him, and he would have uttered a thousand kinder words to her, but for the arrival of the Ogress, who came to look at her children. She perceived the cavern filled with blood, and missed her youngest Ogre. She uttered horrible shrieks. Ravagio soon found out what he had done—but the evil could not be remedied. He whispered to her, that being hungry, he had chosen the wrong, for he thought he had eaten the fresh meat.

Tourmentine pretended to be pacified, for Ravagio was cruel, and if she had not taken his apology in good part, he very likely would have devoured her. But, alas! how much the beautiful Princess suffered from anxiety! She was always thinking by what means she could save the Prince; and he could only think of the frightful place this amiable girl was living in. He could not make up his mind to go away so long as she was there—death would have been preferable to a separation. He made her understand this by repeated signs;—she implored him to fly, and save his own life; they shed tears, pressed each other's hands, and in their respective languages, vowed to each other reciprocal faith and everlasting love. She could not resist showing him the clothes she had on when Tourmentine found her, and also the cradle she was in. The Prince recognised the arms and device of the King of the Happy Island. At this sight he was in raptures; the Princess remarked his transports of joy, which led her to believe that he had learned something of importance from the sight of this cradle. She was dying to know what it meant—but how could he make her aware whose daughter she was, and how nearly they were related? All she could make out was, that she had great reason to rejoice. The hour for retiring was come, and they went to their beds as on the preceding night. The Princess, a prey to the same misgivings, ​got up quietly, went into the cavern where the Prince was, gently took the crown from one of the little Ogres, and put it on her lover's head, who dared not detain her, however desirous he was to do so. The respect he had for her, and the fear of displeasing her, prevented him. The Princess could not have done better than putting the crown upon Aimé's head. Without this precaution, he would have been lost. The barbarous Tourmentine started up out of her sleep, and thinking of the Prince, whom she considered more beautiful than the day, and very tempting food, she was so frightened that Ravagio would eat him by himself, that she thought she would be beforehand with him. She glided, without uttering a word, into the young Ogres' cavern; she gently touched those that had crowns on their head (the Prince was of the number), and one of the little Ogres was gone in three mouthsful. Aimé and his lady-love heard all, and trembled with fear; but Tourmentine, having accomplished her purpose, now only wanted to go to sleep; so they were safe for the remainder of the night. "Heaven aid us!" cried the Princess. "Suggest to me what we can do in such a pressing extremity!" The Prince prayed as fervently; sometimes he felt inclined to attack these two monsters, and fight with them; but what hope had he of obtaining any advantage over them?—they were as tall as giants, and their skin was proof against pistol-shot; so that he came to the more prudent conclusion, that ingenuity could alone extricate them from this frightful position. As soon as it was day, and Tourmentine found the bones of her little Ogre, she filled the air with fearful howls. Ravagio appeared in as much despair. They were a hundred times very nearly throwing themselves upon the Prince and Princess, and devouring them without mercy. They had hidden themselves in a little dark corner, but the cannibals knew full well where they were, and of all the perils they had encountered, this seemed the most imminent. Aimée, racking her brains, all at once remembered that the ivory wand which Tourmentine possessed performed wonders; why, she herself could not tell. "If, notwithstanding her ignorance," said she, "these surprising things occur, why should not my words have as much effect?" Filled with this idea, she ran to the cavern in which Tourmentine slept; she looked for the ​wand, that was hidden in a hole; and as soon as she had it in her hand, she said—"I wish, in the name of the Royal Fairy Trufio, to speak the language of him I love!" She would have made many other wishes, but Ravagio entered—the Princess held her tongue, and putting back the wand, she very quietly returned to the Prince. "Dear stranger," she said, "your troubles affect me much more than my own do!" At these words the Prince was struck with astonishment. "I understand you, adorable Princess!" said he; "you speak my language, and I hope that you, in your turn, understand that I suffer less for myself than for you; that you are dearer to me than my life, than the light of day, and all that is most beautiful in nature!" "My expressions are more simple," replied the Princess, "but they are not the less sincere. I feel I would give everything in the rocky cavern on the sea-shore,—all my sheep, lambs, in short all I possess, for the pleasure of beholding you."

The Prince thanked her a thousand times for her kindness, and begged her to tell him who had taught her in so short a time to speak, in so perfect a manner, a language till then unknown. She told him of the power of the enchanted wand, and he informed her of her birth, and their relation to each other. The Princess was transported with joy; and as nature had endowed her with extraordinary intellect, she expressed it in such choice and well-turned phrases, that the Prince was more in love with her than ever. They had not much time to lose in settling their affairs; it was a question of flight from these irritated monsters, and speedily to seek an asylum for themselves. They promised to love each other for ever; and to unite their destinies, the moment they were able to be married. The Princess told her lover, that as soon as she saw Ravagio and Tourmentine were asleep, she would fetch their great camel, and that they would get on it, and go wherever it pleased heaven to conduct them. The Prince was so delighted he could with difficulty contain his joy, and many things, that still alarmed him, were effaced by the charming prospect of the future. The night so long looked for arrived: the Princess took some meal, and kneaded it with her white hands, into a cake, in which she put a bean; then, she said, holding the ivory wand, "Oh, bean, little bean! I wish, in the name of the royal fairy, ​Trufio, that you may speak, if it be necessary, till you are baked." She put this cake in the hot cinders, and then went to the Prince, who was waiting most impatiently, in the miserable lodging belonging to the young Ogres. "Let us go," said she, "the camel is tethered in the wood." "May love and fortune guide us," replied the Prince, in a low voice. "Come, come, my Aimée; let us seek a happy and peaceful abode." It was moonlight; she had secured the ivory wand; they found the camel, and went on the road, not knowing whither. In the meantime Tourmentine, who was full of grief, kept turning about without being able to sleep; she put out her arm to feel if the Princess was in her bed yet; and not finding her, she cried out in a voice of thunder, "Where art thou, girl?" "I am near the fire," answered the bean. "Wilt thou come to bed?" said Tourmentine; "Directly," replied the bean; "go to sleep, go to sleep." Tourmentine fearing to wake Ravagio, ceased speaking; but in about two hours afterwards, she again felt in Aimée's little bed, and cried out, "What, thou little jade, thou wilt not come to bed?" "I am warming myself as much as I can," answered the bean. "I wish thou wast in the middle of the fire, for thy pains!" added the Ogress. "I am there," said the bean, "and none ever warmed themselves nearer." They still continued talking, for the bean kept up the conversation, like a very clever bean. Towards the morning, Tourmentine again called the Princess; but the bean was baked, and did not answer. This silence made her uneasy,—she got up very angry; looked about her; called; alarmed everybody; and searched in every direction. No Princess! no Prince! no little wand! She shrieked so loudly, that the rocks and valleys echoed again. "Wake up, my poppet; awake, dear Ravagio; thy Tourmentine is betrayed. Our fresh-meat has run away." Ravagio opened his eye, and bounded into the middle of the cavern like a lion; he roared, he bellowed, he howled, he foamed. "Quick, quick; give me my seven-leagued boots, that I may pursue our fugitives; I will catch them, and swallow them before long." He put on his boots, with which at one stride he went seven leagues. Alas! how was it possible to fly fast enough to escape from such a runner? You may be surprised that with the ivory wand they did not go faster than he did; but the beautiful ​Princess was a novice in Fairy art; she knew not all she could do with such a wand; and it was only in extreme cases that a sudden light broke upon her. Delighted at being together, at understanding each other, and by the hope of not being pursued, they travelled on; when the Princess, who was the first to perceive the terrible Ravagio, cried out, "Prince, we are lost! Behold that frightful monster, who is coming upon us like a thunder-bolt!" "What shall we do?" said the Prince, "What will become of us? Ah, if I were alone, I should not care for my life; but yours, my dear mistress, is threatened." "I am hopeless, if the wand will not aid us," added Aimée, weeping. "I wish," said she, "in the name of the royal fairy, Trufio, that our camel may become a pond, that the Prince may be a boat, and myself an old woman, who is rowing it." Immediately, the pond, the boat, and the old woman were there, and Ravagio arrived at the water's edge. "Hola, ho! old mother," he cried, "have you seen a camel, and a young man and woman, pass by here?" The old woman, who kept her boat in the middle of the pond, put her spectacles on her nose, and looking at Ravagio, made signs to him, that she had seen them, and that they had passed through the meadow. The Ogre believed her; he went to the left. The Princess wished to take her natural form; she touched herself with the wand three times, and struck the boat and the pond. She and the Prince became young and beautiful again. They quickly mounted the camel, and turned to the right, that they might not meet their enemy.

While proceeding rapidly, and hoping to find some one who could tell them the road to the Happy Island, they lived upon the wild fruit of the country, they drank water from the fountains, and slept beneath the trees, not without fear that the wild beasts would come and devour them. But the Princess had her bow and arrows, with which she would have tried to defend herself. The danger was not so terrible to them as to prevent their feeling the liveliest pleasure in being released from the cavern, and finding themselves together. Since they had been able to understand, they had said the prettiest things in the world to each other. Love generally quickens the wit; but, in their case, they needed no such assistance, possessing naturally a thousand agreeable ​accomplishments, and an imagination ever suggesting new and original ideas.

The Prince testified to the Princess his extreme impatience to arrive speedily either at his or her royal father's court, as she had promised, that with the consent of their parents, she would accept him as her husband. What you will have some difficulty perhaps in believing is, that while waiting for this happy day, and being with her in forests and solitudes, where he was at full liberty to make to her any proposals he pleased, he conducted himself in so respectful and prudent a manner, that never in the world has there been known to exist so much love and virtue together.

After Ravagio had scoured the mountains, forests, and plains, he returned to his cavern, where Tourmentine and the young Ogres impatiently awaited him. He was laden with five or six people who had unfortunately fallen into his clutches. "Well," said Tourmentine, "hast thou found and eaten those runaways, those thieves, that fresh meat? Hast thou not saved for me either a hand or a foot of them?" "I believe they must have flown away," replied Ravagio; "I ran like a wolf in all directions without meeting with them. I only saw an old woman in a boat upon a pond, who gave me some tidings of them." "What did she tell thee, then?" impatiently inquired Tourmentine. "That they had gone to the left," replied Ravagio. "By my head, thou hast been deceived," said she: "I suspect it was to them thou didst speak. Go back; and if thou findest them, give them not a moment's grace!" Ravagio greased his seven-leagued boots, and set out again like a madman. Our young lovers were issuing from a wood, in which they had passed the night. When they saw the Ogre they were both greatly alarmed. "My Aimée," said the Prince, "here is our enemy; I feel I have courage enough to fight with him; have you not sufficient to escape, by yourself?" "No," cried she, "I will never forsake you—unkind one; do you thus doubt my love for you? But let us not lose a moment; perhaps the wand may be of great service to us. I wish," cried she, "in the name of the royal fairy, Trufio, that the Prince should be changed into a picture, the camel into a pillar, and myself into a dwarf." The change was made; and the dwarf began to blow a horn. Ravagio, who approached with rapid strides, said, "Tell me, ​you little abortion of nature, if you have not seen a fine young man, a young girl, and a camel pass by here?" "Ah, I will tell you," replied the dwarf; "I know that you are in quest of a gentle Damoiseau,[2] a marvellously fair dame, and the beast they rode on. I espied them here yesterday at this, disporting themselves happily and joyously. The gentle Damoiseau received the praise and guerdon of the jousts and tournaments, which were held in honour of Merlusine, of whom you here behold the lovely resemblance. Many high-born gentlemen and good knights broke their lances here, on hauberks, helmets, and shields; the conflict was rough, and the guerdon, a most beautiful clasp of gold, richly beset with pearls and diamonds. On their departure, the unknown dame said to me, 'Dwarf, my friend, without longer parley, I crave a boon of thee, in the name of thy fairest lady-love.' 'It will not be denied,' said I to her; 'and I grant it to you, on the sole condition, that it is in my power.' 'In case then,' said she, 'that thou shouldst espy the great and extraordinary giant, whose eye is in the middle of his forehead—pray him most courteously, that he go his way in peace, and leave us alone;' and, therewith, she whipped her palfrey, and they departed." "Which way?" said Ravagio. "By that verdant meadow, on the skirts of the wood," said the dwarf. "If thou liest," replied the Ogre, "be assured thou filthy little reptile, that I will eat thee, thy pillar, and thy portrait of Merluche."[3] "There is no villainy or falsehood in me," said the dwarf; "my mouth is no lying one; living man cannot convict me of fraud. But go quickly, if you would kill them before the sun sets." The Ogre strode away. The dwarf resumed her own figure, and touched the portrait and the pillar, which also became themselves again. What joy for the lover and his mistress! "Never," said the Prince, "did I suffer such keen anxiety, my dear Aimée! as my love for you increases every moment, so are my fears augmented when you are in peril." "And I," said she, "seemed to have no fear; for Ravagio never eats pictures, and I was alone exposed to his fury. There was ​also little in my appearance that was palatable; and, in short, I risked my life to preserve yours."

Ravagio hunted in vain; he could neither find the lover nor his mistress. He was as tired as a dog; he retraced his steps to the cavern. "What! hast thou returned without our prisoners?" exclaimed Tourmentine, tearing her bristling hair. "Don't come near me, or I shall strangle thee!" "I saw nothing," said he, "but a dwarf, a pillar, and a picture." "By my head," continued she, "it was them! I was very foolish to leave my vengeance in thy hands, as though I were too little to undertake it myself. Here! here I go! I will put on the boots this time, and I shall not speed worse than thou." She put on the seven-leagued boots, and started. What chance have the Prince and Princess of travelling so quickly as to escape these monsters, with their accursed seven-leagued boots! They saw Tourmentime coming, dressed in a serpent's skin, the variegated colours of which were wonderful. She carried upon her shoulder a mace of iron, of a terrible weight; and as she looked carefully on all sides, she must have seen the Prince and Princess, had they not been at that moment in the thickest part of a wood. "The matter is hopeless," said Aimée, weeping; "here comes the cruel Tourmentine, whose sight chills my blood: she is more cunning than Ravagio. If either of us speak to her, she will know us, and eat us up without more ado. Our trial will be soon over, as you may imagine." "Love, Love, do not abandon us!" exclaimed the Prince. "Hast thou within thy empire fonder hearts or purer flames than ours? Ah, my dear Aimée," continued he, taking her hands and kissing them fervently, "canst thou be destined to perish in so barbarous a manner?" "No," said she, "no; I have a certain feeling of courage and firmness that reassures me. Come, little wand, do thy duty. I wish, in the name of the royal fairy, Trufio, that the camel should be a tub, that my dear prince should become a beautiful orange-tree, and that I, metamorphosed into a bee, should hover around him." As usual, she struck three blows for each; and the change took place so suddenly, that Tourmentine, who had arrived on the spot, did not perceive it. The horrible fury was out of breath, and sat down under the orange-tree. The Princess Bee delighted in stinging her in a thousand places: and although her skin was so ​hard, the sting pierced it, and made her cry out. To see her roll and lay about her upon the grass, one would have thought her a bull, or a young lion, tormented by a swarm of insects; for this one was worth a hundred. The Prince Orange-tree was dying with fear that she would be caught and killed. At last, Tourmentine, covered with blood, made off; and the Princess was about to resume her own form, when, unluckily, some travellers passing through the wood, having perceived the ivory wand, which was a very pretty-looking thing, picked it up, and carried it away. Nothing could be much more unfortunate than this. The Prince and Princess had not lost their speech, but of how little use was it to them in their present condition! The Prince, overwhelmed with grief, uttered lamentations that greatly added to his dear Aimée's distress. He would sometimes thus express himself:—

"The moment was near, when my lovely Princess
Had promised my wishes to crown.
A hope so enchanting—of joy, such excess,
Defied of misfortune the frown!
O Love, who such wonders can work at thy will;
Who ruleth the world with thy dart;
Preserve my dear Bee from each peril, and still
Unchanged to the last keep her heart."

"How wretched am I," continued he, "thus pent up within the bark of a tree. Here I am, an Orange-tree, without any power to move. "What will become of me, if you abandon me, my dear little Bee?" "But," added he, "why will you go so far from me? You will find a most agreeable dew on my flowers, and drops in them sweeter than honey: you will be able to live on it. My leaves invite you to couch in them; there you will have nothing to fear from the malice of spiders!" As soon as the Orange-tree ceased its complaints, the Bee replied to him thus—

"Fear not, Prince, that I should range;
Nought my faithful heart can change;
Let the only thought of thine,
Be that thou hast conquer'd mine."

She added to that—"Do not fear that I will ever leave you. Neither the lilies, nor the jasmines, nor the roses, nor all the flowers of the most beautiful gardens, would induce me to commit so much infidelity. You shall see me continually flying around you, and you will know that the Orange-tree is not less dear to the Bee than Prince Aimé was to the ​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, ​and of considerable rank in these parts, and an unfortunate princess, whom you found covered with a tigers skin, surrounded by monsters who could only give her coarse and barbarous ideas, and whose beauty is not great enough to enslave you." And then she cried, as much as any bee is able to cry. Some of the flowers of the enamoured Orange-tree were wetted by her tears, and his distress at having vexed his princess was so great that all his leaves turned yellow, several branches withered, and he thought he should die. "What have I done, then," exclaimed he, "my beautiful Bee? What have I done to make you so angry? Ah! doubtless, you will abandon me. You are already weary of being linked to one so unfortunate as I am." The night was passed in reproaches; but at the break of day a kind Zephyr, who had been listening to them, induced them to be reconciled; it could not render them a greater service. In the meantime, Linda, who was dying to have a bouquet of orange-flowers, arose early in the morning, descended to her flower-garden, and flew to gather one. But when she put forth her hand, she felt herself so violently stung by the jealous Bee, that her heart failed her. She returned to her room in a very bad temper. "I cannot make out," said she, "what this tree is that we have found; for whenever I wish to take the smallest bud, some insects that guard it pierce me with their stings." One of her maids, who had some wit, and was very lively, said, laughingly: "I would advise you, Madam, to arm yourself as an Amazon, and follow Jason's example, when he went to win the golden fleece, and courageously take the most beautiful flowers from this pretty tree." Linda thought there was something amusing in this idea, and immediately she ordered them to make her a helmet covered with feathers, a light cuirass, and gauntlets; and to the sound of trumpets, kettle-drums, fifes, and hautbois, she entered the garden, followed by all her ladies, who were armed like herself, and who called this fête "the Battle of the Bees and Amazons." Linda drew her sword very gracefully; then, striking the most beautiful branch of the Orange-tree, said: "Appear, terrible Bees, appear! I come to defy you! Are you sufficiently valiant to defend that which you love?" But what became of Linda, and all who accompanied her, when they heard a pitiful "Alas!" issue from the stem of the Orange-tree, and saw that ​blood flowed from the severed branch? "Heavens!" cried she, I what have I done?—what prodigy is this!" She took the bleeding branch, and vainly attempted to rejoin the portions: she was seized with alarm and an overpowering anxiety.

The poor little Bee, in despair at the sad accident that had happened to her dear Orange-tree, was about to rush out to find death at the point of the fatal sword, in her attempt to avenge her dear Prince; but she preferred living for him, and recollecting a remedy that he needed, she entreated him to let her fly to Arabia that she might bring back some balm for him. After he had consented to her going there, and they had taken a tender and affectionate farewell of each other, she started for that part of the world, with instinct alone for her guide. But to speak more correctly, Love carried her there; and as he flies faster than the swiftest of winged beings, he enabled her rapidly to perform this long journey. She brought back wonderful balm upon her wings, and about her little feet, with which she cured her Prince. It is true, it was not so much by the excellence of the balm, by as the pleasure it afforded him, in seeing the Princess Bee take so much care of his wound. She applied the balm every day, and he had much need of it; for the severed branch was one of his fingers; so had they continued to treat him as Linda had done, he would neither have had legs nor arms. Oh, how acutely did the Bee feel for the sufferings of the Orange-tree! She reproached herself with being the cause, by the impetuosity with which she defended its flowers. Linda, alarmed at what she had seen, could neither sleep nor eat. At last she resolved to send for some Fairies, in the hope of being enlightened upon a matter that seemed so extraordinary. She despatched ambassadors, laden with handsome presents, to invite them to her court.

Queen Trufio was one of the first who arrived at Linda's palace. There never was a person so skilful in Fairy art. She examined the branch and the Orange-tree, she smelt its flowers, and distinguished a human odour, which surprised her. She did not leave a spell untried, and employed some so powerful, that all at once the Orange-tree disappeared, and they perceived the Prince, handsomer and better made than any other man in the world. At this sight Linda became immoveable; she was struck with admiration, and so ​peculiar a feeling for him, that she had already lost her former indifference, while the young Prince, thinking of his charming Bee, threw himself at Trufio's feet. "Great Queen," said he, "I am infinitely indebted to thee; thou hast given me new life, by restoring me to my original form; but, if thou wouldst that I should owe thee my peace and happiness, a blessing even greater than the life thou hast recalled me to, restore me my Princess!" In uttering these words he took hold of the little Bee, whom he never ceased gazing upon. "Thou shalt be satisfied," answered the generous Trufio. She recommenced her ceremonies, and the Princess Aimée appeared with so many charms that there was not one of the ladies who was not envious of her. Linda hesitated within herself, whether she ought to be pleased or vexed at so extraordinary an adventure; and, particularly, at the metamorphose of the Bee.

At length her reason got the better of her passion, which was only in its infancy; she embraced Aimée a thousand times, and Trufio begged her to relate her adventures. She was under too much obligation to her to refuse what she wished. The graceful and easy manner with which she spoke interested the whole assembly; and when she told Trufio she had performed so many wonders by virtue of her name and her wand, there was an exclamation of joy throughout the hall, and every one entreated the Fairy to complete this great work. Trufio, on her side, felt extreme pleasure at all she had heard. She folded the Princess in her arms.

"Since I was so useful to you, without knowing you," said she to her, "judge, charming Aimée, now that I do know you, how much I am inclined to serve you. I am a friend of the King your father, and of the Queen your mother: let us instantly go, in my flying chariot, to the Happy Island, where both of you will be received as you deserve." Linda begged them to remain one day with her, during which she made them very costly presents, and the Princess Aimée left off her tiger's skin for dresses of incomparable beauty. Let all now imagine the joy of our happy lovers. Yes, let them imagine it, if they can; but to do that, they should have met with the same misfortunes, have been amongst Ogres, and undergone as many transformations. They set out at last; Trufio conducted them through the air to the Happy Island. They ​were received by the King and Queen as the last persons in the world they had ever expected to see again, but whom they beheld with the greatest pleasure. Aimée's beauty and prudence, added to her wit, made her the admiration of the age. Her dear mother loved her passionately. The fine qualities of Prince Aimé's mind were not less appreciated than his handsome person. The nuptials were celebrated; nothing was ever so magnificent. The Graces attended in their festive attire. The Loves were there, without even being invited, and by their express order, the eldest son of the Prince and Princess was named "Faithful Love." They have given him since then many other titles; and under all these various names it is very difficult to find "Faithful Love," such as sprang from this charming marriage. Happy they who meet with him unmistakeably.

Aimée with her lover alone in a wood,
Conducted herself with extreme circumspection;
To Reason she listen'd—Temptation withstood,
And lost not a jot of her Prince's affection.
Believe not, ye fair, who would captivate hearts,
That Cupid needs Pleasure alone to retain him;
Love oft from the lap of Indulgence departs,
But Prudence and Virtue for ever enchain him.

The End

1. Canambour, Calambour, Calambuc, Bois d'Aigle, the odoriferous wood of a species of Aloe, a native of Mexico and of Cochin-China. It was much used in the manufacture of toys. Madame de Sevigne mentions a rosary of Calambuc in her letter of the 9th June, 1680.

2. A young gentleman before he was knighted. All the answers of the dwarf in the original are written in the language of the middle ages, and evince Madame d'Aulnoy's study of the Romans and Fabliaux of the 13th and 14th centuries.

3. An intentional contemptuous alteration of the name of Merlusine into that for a stock-fish.

All the Fairy Tales by Madame d'Aulnoy

Babiole - Also known as Babiola

Belle Belle; or, the Chevalier Fortuné

Finette Cendron - Alternate names for the tale are: The Story of Finetta or The Curious Story of Finetta or The Story of Finetta, or, The Cinder-Girl.

Fortunee - Also known as Felicia and the Pot of Pinks or The Pot of Carnations or The Pinks

Gracieuse and Percinet - Also known as Graciosa and Percinet

Princess Belle-Etoile and Prince Cheri

Princess Rosette

The Bee and the Orange - Also known as Tree The Orange-Tree and the Bee

The Benevolent Frog - Also known as The Beneficent Frog or The Friendly Frog

The Blue Bird

The Fair with Golden Hair - Also known as Princess Goldenhair, or The Story of Pretty Goldilocks, or The Fair Maid with Golden Locks, or The Beauty with Golden Hair, or Fair Goldilocks

The Golden Branch - Also known as The Golden Bough

The good little Mouse - Also known as The Little Good Mouse

The Green Serpent - Also known as The Green Dragon

The Imp Prince - Also known as Prince Sprite, or The Hobgoblin Prince, or The Imp Prince, or Prince Ariel, or Prince Elfin, or The Invisible Prince

The Pigeon and the Dove

The Princess Carpillon

The Princess Mayblossom - Also known as Princess Printaniere, or Princess Verenata and Princess Maia

The Ram - Also known as The Wonderful Sheep or Miranda and the Royal Ram, or The Royal Ram, or, The Wishes

The White Cat

The White Doe - Also known as The Doe in the Woods, or The Hind in the Woods, or The Story of the Hind in the Forest, or The Enchanted Hind, or The Hind of the Forest, or The White Fawn

The Yellow Dwarf

Post a Comment

0 Comments