Albert Derize had willingly pruned the forest of the epics, the Iliad, the Odyssey, the "Song of Roland" like any good woodman, to make of them playthings for his children.
"Go to sleep, darling, go to sleep."
"Well, I shall have to tell you one, Mamma."
"You must go to sleep."
"The one about the cup of happiness, if you like. There was once a knight who had a very sad wife in his castle. And she went to sleep when he was away hunting. And then he saw fairies dancing—do fairies dance?"
"Of course, they do. Go to sleep."
"And he saw one there who was the most beautiful of all, and she carried a golden cup with diamonds. It was not for champagne. It was the cup of happiness."
Her mother bent over her, thinking she was asleep, but the little voice continued faintly after a moment.
"So the knight tore it from her hands and rode off on his horse and escaped, and he made a present of it."
"To whom?" Elizabeth asked mechanically.