wound off before sunset." With that she shut her up in a room under three locks.
The Princess was no sooner left alone than, examining the enormous skein and turning it over and over, breaking a thousand threads in trying to find one to begin with, she became so confused that she ceased attempting to unravel it; and, flinging it into the middle of the room, "Go," she cried, "fatal thread, thou wilt be the cause of my death! Ah, Percinet! Percinet! if my cruelty has not completely offended you, I implore you to hasten—not to save me, but only to receive my last farewell." Thereupon she began to weep so bitterly, that even one who was not a tender lover must have been touched by it. Percinet opened the door as easily as if he had had the key in his pocket. "I am here, my Princess," said he to her, "always ready to serve you. I am not capable of deserting you, notwithstanding the poor return you make to my affection." He struck the skein three times with his wand; the broken threads were immediately rejoined, and two more taps unravelled it with most astonishing perfection. He inquired if there was any other service he could render her, and whether she would never call on him but when she was in trouble. "Do not reproach me, handsome Percinet," said she; "I am already sufficiently miserable." "But, my Princess, it is in your own power to liberate yourself from the tyranny of which you are the victim. Come with me. Complete our mutual happiness. What do you fear?" "That you do not love me well enough," replied she. "I would have time to be convinced of your affection." Percinet, exasperated by her suspicions, bowed and disappeared.
The sun was just about to set; Grognon awaited the moment with the greatest impatience. At length she anticipated it, and came with her four furies, who accompanied her everywhere. She put the three keys into the three locks, and said as she opened the door, "I'll wager, now, that this idle beauty hasn't wagged one of her ten fingers. She would much rather have slept to improve her complexion." As soon as she entered, Gracieuse presented her with the ball of thread quite perfect. She had not a word to say, except that Gracieuse had soiled it,—that she was a dirty creature; and for that gave her two such slaps on the face, that the roses and lilies of her cheeks turned blue and yellow. The hapless
