Graciosa hardly knew how to thank Percinet.
“Do not thank me,” said the Prince gravely. “I wish no thanks from you. You know how dearly I love you, and I, on my part, am sure that now you also love me. Come away with me from all these fears and sufferings and live with me in the palace my mother is eager to provide for us.”
But Graciosa could not yet make up her mind to marry one who was half a fairy.
“Ah, Percinet, forgive me!” she cried. “I know that you love me, but you are a fairy and I am a mortal, and I fear your love for me may not be lasting. Let us wait and see whether the Queen’s heart may not soften toward me. Perhaps she has only set me this task as a trial of my patience and does not really intend evil to me.”
“In other words, you trust to her cruelty rather than to my tenderness,” cried the Prince with some anger. “So be it. But at least I have saved you from a beating.”
Thus saying, he disappeared, and the Princess was left alone.
Early the next morning Grognon hastened to Graciosa’s prison. Already she was planning what was the most cruel punishment she could give the Princess, for she had no other thought but that Graciosa would have found the task impossible.
What was her amazement to see, when she opened the door, that all the silks had been separated and wound into skeins, and that they lay upon the table so beautifully arranged that to see them was like looking upon a rainbow.
Graciosa met her with a smile. “Madam, I have done your bidding,” said she, “and the silks are ready for you, as you can see.”
Grognon could think of no reply to make. She snatched up the silks and left the room, casting upon Graciosa a look so furious and so malignant that the poor girl trembled.