The moment they recovered from their swoon they had the pleasure of seeing each other. The magnificence of the place in which they found themselves astonished them. Their uncertainty did not last long: Arganto entered to dissipate it. They immediately asked her to give them some news of Bonnebonne. The Fairy informed them that Bonnebonne had consented to their advancement, and had herself conjured her to take them away. Bleuette and Coquelicot were comforted by this account, for they had been afraid of displeasing her. Arganto then said to them, "Here, Bleuette, is the apartment prepared for you; your household shall be formed to-night. Meanwhile, here are your waiting-women: let me present them to you."
At these words, there appeared a dozen handsome young persons, carrying all the innumerable trifles which have become so necessary to a lady's toilet. They were followed by an equal number of valets-de-chambre, bearing boxes and caskets, and who in a few moments fitted up and set out a most superb dressing-table. Garments adapted to the season then appeared in such great profusion that they covered all the chairs, beds, and couches in this large apartment. When everything was arranged according to the Fairy's pleasure, she said to Bleuette, "This all belongs to you, and you have nothing to study but how to avail yourself of it." She then showed her a basket full of ornaments and a jewel-case crammed with precious stones as perfect in themselves as they were tastefully set, saying to her, "Beautiful Bleuette, this little jewel-box will amuse you, but let us now proceed to the apartment I destine for Coquelicot." Bleuette followed the Fairy without being able to reply; her surprise and astonishment appeared to her like a beautiful dream. They all three passed into another apartment. It was plain, but neat. Four valets-de-chambre, who were in the second room, stept forward and presented him with clothes as tasteful as they were superb, in order that he might select those in which he wished to appear that day. They then opened the door of a sort of large cabinet, containing all kinds of musical instruments, also a library well stocked with historical works, but more particularly with romances and fairy tales.
"Behold," said Arganto, "what will amuse you when you are weary of the pleasures of society, or require rest after exercise." She then commanded the person she had chosen for his equerry to appear. "You may," said she to Coquelicot, "take his advice; he is a man to be depended on, and a good companion. Show," continued she to this gentleman, "the things of which you have the charge." There then appeared servants in livery, who carried the most magnificent and perfect arms for war and the chase. And even this was not all: "Let us," said Arganto, "look out of the window." They obeyed her, and perceived fifty saddle-horses, led by five-and-twenty grooms, superbly clothed and well mounted. "There," said she, "are your horses for hunting and riding." She then ordered out the carriages: berlins, berlingots, vis-à-vis, calêches of all kinds, defiled under the windows, drawn by the prettiest and best groomed horses in the world, with their manes tastefully plaited. Coquelicot, as much astonished as Bleuette, observed also the same silence. "Learn, both of you," said Arganto, "to make good use of what I have just given you; you are both charming, but believe me, dress is necessary to beauty." She then left them in their separate apartments, questioning their new domestics on the particular use of all the novelties that surrounded them, for they dared not yet give any orders. They at length dressed themselves, and Coquelicot proceeding to the apartment of Bleuette, they were mutually astonished at the agreeable effect of their attire, and uttering a hundred praises of the good taste of Arganto, they became more than ever convinced of the truth of what she had told them respecting Bonnebonne, for whose simplicity they began to blush.
All the Court learning the arrival of Bleuette and Coquelicot, either from curiosity or the desire to please the Fairy, came with great eagerness to pay her a visit. The King himself did her this honour. The praises of the men of Bleuette, and those of the women of Coquelicot, gratified both exceedingly. They found that the language spoken in this country had an agreeable style hitherto quite unknown to them; they were struck by it, and thought of nothing but imitating it. Bleuette, from the first day, perceived that Coquelicot was not made for his fine clothes, and that he had a borrowed air which the other young men who surrounded her had not: in short, both were occupied by a thousand new fancies. They saw each other every day, it is true, but they sought each other less; and the tender conversations, in which simplicity, ingenuousness, candour, and truth had formerly so large a share, no longer took place between them; they were only anxious now to place their words and turn their phrases according to the style which they had been so much struck with in their new residence.
The dress, the magnificence, and the brilliancy with which they dazzled the whole court caused every one to give them the titles of prince and princess. They knew well that they did not deserve them from their low birth; but the mistake of others gratified their vanity. They agreed between them to keep their real condition secret, and hoped privately that their beauty and merit would in time really raise them to that dignity.
Coquelicot had perfectly handsome features and a charming figure. He performed all kinds of feats with marvellous success; almost all the ladies were pulling caps for him. Bleuette was not in the least jealous of his conquests, and although in such situations one is not always just, she had at least the generosity not to reproach him in any way. In fact, she deserved reproaching equally herself, for the Court and its grand airs had changed her heart and mind as much as his. Bleuette, on her part, thinking of nothing but how to attract admiration and to outvie all the other beauties of the Court, became a practised coquette. You may easily judge, knowing what I have told you, how long she was in availing herself of all the presents of the Fairy. She very soon invented fashions, which all the other ladies, handsome or ugly, were, in spite of themselves, obliged to follow. During some time this gratification of her vanity only presented to her view jealous rivals, men captivated and admiring, flattered or plunged into despair, by her glances and her deceptive and provoking speeches; but Bleuette was so beautiful, she had so much wit and grace, that, even when making them most miserable, she was the theme of their praises and the object of attraction to all the finest people of the Court. She also conducted herself with so much prudence that no one could cast the least slur on her.
Coquelicot, on his part—"fickle adorer of a thousand different objects"—flattered his vanity without ever satisfying his heart.
Such was the true and unhappy situation in which these two persons, formerly the most loving and amiable possible, found themselves, when this same vanity, the shoal on which so much happiness has been wrecked, was itself violently offended.
It must be remembered that, dazzled by the splendour which surrounded them, they had both received with pleasure the titles of princes; but nothing is unknown to the world, and such vanity would awaken a contempt for falsehood, in those who have no higher motive for despising it. A youth, brought up, as they had been, by Bonnebonne, in the Island of Happiness, having wandered from it, as many others had done, in passing through several countries, had been attracted to the Court inhabited by Bleuette and Coquelicot. He was astonished to hear the grand titles of prince and princess added to their well-known names, he ran, however, to the Fairy's palace to embrace them; but far from receiving him kindly, they did not condescend even to recognise him. He complained to everybody who would listen to him, and all the Court were very soon informed that Princess Bleuette and Prince Coquelicot were the children of, 'twas true, very honest people, but who were nothing but poor shepherds. The Court is a region in which nothing is forgiven, and where anything ridiculous is sought for with the greatest eagerness; therefore, it profited by this affair. Songs and epigrams were circulated in a moment; and the objects of their attack could not pretend ignorance of them, for, according to the praiseworthy custom of the authors of such works, the first copies were addressed to the persons most interested. Coquelicot was bantered by one of the wits of the Court; but he demanded very prompt satisfaction, and the combat, in which he killed his adversary, brought him honour in a place where truth is so rare, notwithstanding that a falsehood is never pardoned. They rendered justice to his valour, but they no longer paid him the same attentions; for in short, although riches can obtain everything, the ridicule attached to low birth combined with vanity is rarely overlooked at Court. As for Bleuette, whom wounded pride rendered still more haughty than ever, and who hoped by her beauty and accomplishments to stifle the disagreeable reports which had been spread about her former pastoral condition—Bleuette, I must tell you, had, in addition, the mortification to see some letters which she had had the imprudence to write handed round amongst her acquaintances. Her attraction diminished and her reputation tarnished (however unjustly) hurt her deeply, and induced her to reflect seriously. Recalling then the remembrance of her former happiness, the words of Bonnebonne presented themselves to her mind.
Bleuette being thus agitated by all the recollections which led her back to her first sentiments for Coquelicot, looked only with regret upon the conduct she had pursued towards him since she had been at Court. She was ashamed of it, but it was not possible for her to speak to him openly on the subject. "He will consider," said she, "my most sincere repentance to be caused either by coquetry or jealousy; and I cannot complain, or he will believe that my birth being known and made public in this country, has deranged my projects of advancement, and that I am brought back to him only by a feeling of shame and necessity." "No," continued she, "I will not betray to him all the weakness of my heart, or all the pain which the false friendship of Arganto has caused me."