they did not approach Merveilleuse near enough for her to touch them, their presence was a great consolation to her.
The royal Ram had all the sense and delicacy which is required for agreeable conversation. He was so passionately fond of Merveilleuse, that she began also to have some regard for him, and at length to love him. A pretty sheep, very gentle, very affectionate, is not unlikely to please one, particularly when it is known he is a king, and that his transformation will shortly terminate. The Princess thus passed her days in peace, awaiting a happier lot.
The gallant Ram thought of nothing but her. He gave fêtes, concerts, hunts; his flock assisted him cordially; even the shades played their parts in the entertainments.
One day, on the arrival of the couriers,—for he regularly sent out for the news, and always had the first and best intelligence,—he learned that the eldest sister of Princess Merveilleuse was about to marry a great prince, and that nothing could be more magnificent than the preparations they were making for the nuptials. "Ah!" said the young Princess, "how unfortunate I am to be deprived of the sight of so many fine things! Here am I underground, amongst ghosts and sheep, whilst my sister is appearing to all the world in queenly splendour. Everybody will pay court to her; I alone shall have no share in her joy." "What reason have you to complain, Madam?" said the King of the Sheep; "have I refused you permission to go to the wedding? Depart as soon as you please, only give me your word that you will return. If you do not agree to that, you will see me expire at your feet, for my attachment to you is too violent for me to lose you and live." Merveilleuse, much affected, promised the Ram that nothing in the world should prevent her return. He provided her with an equipage befitting her birth. She was superbly dressed, and nothing was forgotten that could increase her beauty. She entered a chariot of mother-of-pearl, drawn by six Isabella coloured[1]
- ↑ The Infanta Isabella, daughter of Philip II., King of Spain, wife of the Archduke Albert, made a vow at the siege of Ostend in 1602, that, till the city was taken, she would never change her clothes. Contrary to expectation, it was three years before the place was reduced, by which time her Highness's linen had acquired a hue better imagined than described. The superstition of the times, however, gave a fashion to it, and what we now call dun-colour became popular, and is to this day in France called couleur Isabelle.
