The Prince embraced the Fairy's knees, transported with joy and gratitude, which wounded her much more than his unfortunate confidence; she took leave of him under a pretext of consulting her books, but really because she could not contain herself, and her fury had risen to a most horrible height. Who could describe it? All that an amorous, jealous, and mistaken woman could feel, she, as a Fairy, felt still more; nor could the most forcible language paint but feebly the tortures which racked her heart. She had promised, however, to accompany the Prince; but that would enable her to execute the vengeance she meditated.
She felt the more assured of her revenge as the Prince had let the necklace fall from his arm, and had left her without being aware of his loss. She picked it up, and thanking the stars for so lucky an accident, no longer delayed taking measures for her revenge, which would have been useless without that precious necklace. She closed the doors of her apartment, that her absence might not be perceived, and desired the King might be told she must consult her books in private, and at midnight she would be visible. She mounted a flying dragon, and speedily arrived in the cavern, where everything was in profound repose; the dragon sneezed, which was like a clap of thunder, and enough to rend the cavern. She accomplished, as we have already seen, her wicked intentions, and returned to the Fortunate Isles as the clock struck eleven. She could hardly restrain her delight while waiting for the King; but soon the idea of his being in love, and without doubt loved in return, renewed her fury; she was in a transport of rage when he entered her room with an eagerness which assisted not a little to increase it.
She endeavoured to calm herself, or rather to dissemble her rage; her fury was at such a height that her horn was in a flame, and the enamoured and too credulous Coquerico, thinking it was an attention she was paying him to guide him in the darkness of the night, thanked her a thousand times for this precaution. They mounted a chariot drawn by three owls, set off at full speed, and descended in the forest close to the cavern wherein Lionette had been reared. The Prince only knew it from Lionette's description of it. Love invests with interest the most trifling circumstance connected with its object.
He had often asked her to describe the place she inhabited. He remembered every little detail distinctly. He could not be deceived; besides, he knew her bow and arrow that were in the cabinet in which she slept. His grief was excessive at not finding her; he called her, he went in and out of the cavern a thousand and a thousand times, he entreated the Fairy to throw a light from her horn upon places that were obscure, and seeing some little pictures she had painted—"Ah! this is her work," cried he; "I will preserve them all my life." The Fairy was so irritated at his transports, that she threw out a flame from her horn, which in a moment destroyed everything that was in the cavern.
The Prince had great difficulty to save himself from this conflagration. The Fairy protected him, however, and triumphed within herself at the absence of her rival. She advised the Prince to seek for her elsewhere. "Perhaps," said she, "her parents have married her; or perhaps," she continued, ironically, "grief at your loss has caused her death." "I know not what has happened," said the Prince, in a tone which marked the agitation of his mind, and distracted at not being able to find his mistress; "but I would rather believe her to be dead than unfaithful; and if it be true that she exists no longer, very soon I shall follow her to the grave." "Here is a furious determination of a lover!" cried the Fairy; but considering that under the circumstances it would be better not to irritate the King, she changed her tone. "What I have said," pursued she, "is to prove the interest I take in you. I am sorry you should have conceived an affection for a person of such low extraction, and I cannot sufficiently thank Fate that, in accordance with my own opinion, has removed this shepherdess, and thus assisted your heart to recover from its error." "I know not if Fate has assisted you to drive me mad," replied the Prince, sharply; "but if so, I feel she has been more successful in that attempt than the other. As to Lionette, I will repair the defect, if it be one, to be born of obscure parents,—not that I believe it possible for her to be what she appears. In any case, however, happy are the princesses who are as high-minded as she is."
The Prince now, seeing how uselessly he was seeking for her in this place, entered the chariot again with the Fairy, and returned to the Fortunate Isles, where they arrived at sunrise without having spoken a single word, both of them occupied—the one by her fury, the other by his grief.
The King, upon his return, shut himself up in his palace, and thought of nothing but by what steps he might recover Lionette. It occurred to him he ought to go to Tigreline. This resolution taken, he proceeded to Cornue to tell her his project. "I cannot imagine," said he to her, "why you do not assist me in this affair; is your power so limited? Is Tigreline's more extensive than yours?—for I believe," he added, instantly, "you are so interested in my happiness, that you would exert all the skill you possess to increase it, if it were possible. I could not even doubt it, without being ungrateful. I have had sufficient proofs to be quite sure of it, and I feel that I can never forget them." Cornue blushed at this question, which she did not expect, and becoming acquainted with the extent of her misfortune by the latter part of the King's discourse. "It is in consequence of that very affection I have for you," said she, "as you ought to know, that I will not serve you in fostering a passion that would diminish your glory; and if you are as grateful as you say you are for the care I have taken to make you happy, and for preserving your life, you will discard an infatuation which will be your ruin. What an idea will your people—will the whole universe—have of a king so little master of himself that he runs after a poor shepherdess, to give her a crown which he might share with the first princesses in the world—no matter whom: perhaps even a fairy might not have disdained to partake of one with you." These last words, which escaped her in spite of herself, opened the King's eyes, and looking at the Fairy with astonishment, he was convinced of the truth of his suspicions when he saw her standing silent, confused, and carefully avoiding his gaze.
It was some time before he could find words to answer, from his excessive astonishment; but unwilling either to irritate the Fairy at the moment he so much wanted her assistance, or to encourage a hope that he felt incapable of sustaining. "The knowledge you have of the human heart, Madam," said he, at last, "ought to have taught you that a King cannot dispense with the laws of nature more than other men. So pure and intense a passion as I have for Lionette is not of a character to be easily extinguished. Why did you not exert your power to render me insensible? I should not then have felt the grief I have to-day, nor the happiness you speak of. This choice of a great princess or of a fairy who would deign to receive my vows and my crown—this happiness, I say, does not at all affect me. Is it necessary that to be happy I must sacrifice myself for ever to the whims of my people? I must choose for myself. I would willingly make them happy. I feel a pleasure even in desiring and being able to do so—but what can it signify to them who I give them for their Queen? I value my greatness only because it enables me to elevate her whom I love. This sweet pleasure would induce me to support the weight of a crown; without it, what would be every other enjoyment? And am I compelled, because I am their master, to be deprived of the only pleasure I sigh for? No, Madam; in giving them Lionette I consider that I make them as happy as I make myself. Should they refuse to receive her, they will repent their temerity; and whoever ventures to oppose me will find that my love has not made me forget I am a king."
"Proceed, ungrateful one! Proceed to destroy me!" said the Fairy. "You know too well all the violence of my love for you, and you only pretend not to see it to overwhelm me the more by your severity. It is I—it is I only—who will expose myself to the danger of resisting thy base inclinations. Dare to punish me, and so complete the measure of your crimes! But how wilt thou do it? Thou art in my power, and the necklace which I hold, and which dropped from thine arm yesterday in my room, will revenge me for thy ingratitude." In saying this, she arose, and touching the King with her wand as he advanced to recover his mistress's love-token, she transformed him into a cock; then, opening one of the windows, she threw him down into the court of the palace; after which, assembling the Council, she informed them that the King had absented himself upon urgent business, and she, not being able to remain longer in that kingdom, had determined to appoint a regent. This affair concluded, she ascended her chariot and disappeared from their sight.
The King was dizzy with his fall, but his wings had supported him, in spite of himself, and when he had a little recovered his senses he jumped upon a balustrade of white and rose-coloured marble, which surrounded a piece of magnificent water in the centre of the court-yard, to see himself in it. He was astounded at his appearance—not but that he was the most beautiful bird in the world; his body seemed as though it was covered with emeralds,—his wings were of a bright rose-colour, and on his head was a crest of brilliants, which threw out a most dazzling light,—his tail was a plume of green and rose-colour,—his feet, of the latter hue, with claws blacker than ebony, and his beak was a single ruby.