After a time Amadea not only found out where he was, but found out that she had a rival. Then she made her way to the place, and demanded to see her rival; but knowing of what she was capable, this her husband would by no means allow. Then she prepared a most beautiful necklace of pearls, and sent it as a present to her rival. But she had poisoned it by her arts, for she was a sort of witch, and when her rival put it on she died.
Meantime she had sent a message to her husband, saying, ‘If I may not come to your court, at least let me see my children for one hour, and then I will go away, and molest you no more for ever.’
‘That I will grant you,’ was his answer; and the children were brought to her.
When she saw her children, she wept, and embraced them, and wept again, and said:
‘Now, my children, I must kill you.’
‘And why must you kill us?’ asked the little boy.
‘Because of the too great love I bear you,’ she replied, and drew out her dagger.
At that instant her husband came into the room, and she stabbed the children before his eyes. After that she stabbed herself, and he died of grief.
[It was about the time that Prince Amadeo gave up his attempt to hold the throne of Spain that I was visiting a poor person who had before given me some of the stories of this collection. The abdication of Prince Amadeo being the subject of the hour, we, of course, talked about that; when she said: ‘Ah, you who are so fond of favola, do you know the favola of Queen Amadea, for one name brings up another?’ I told her I did not; for I expected she meant some legend of the House of Savoy; she then told me the story of Medeia in the text. It is very rare, however, to meet remnants of classical traditions in such direct form.]