Gracieuse bore patiently an insult she was not in a position to resent. They took her back to her dungeon, and locked her up carefully. Grognon, vexed that she had not succeeded with the skein of thread, sent for the Fairy, and loaded her with reproaches. "Find out something," she said, "so difficult that she cannot possibly accomplish it." The Fairy departed, and the next day returned with a great barrel full of feathers. There were some of all sorts of birds—nightingales, canaries, greenfinches, goldfinches, linnets, redwings, parrots, owls, sparrows, doves, ostriches, bustards, peacocks, larks, partridges;—I should never have finished if I attempted to name them all. These feathers were so mixed together, that the birds themselves could not have recognised their own. "Here," said the Fairy to Grognon, "is what will try the skill and patience of your prisoner. Order her to pick out these feathers, and put the peacock's, the nightingale's, and every other sort, each by themselves in separate heaps. It would be a task for a fairy." Grognon was ready to die with joy, picturing to herself the perplexity of the wretched princess. She sent for her, threatened her as before, and shut her up with the barrel in the chamber under three locks, ordering her to finish her work by sunset.
Gracieuse took out some of the feathers; but finding it impossible to distinguish the different kinds, threw them back again into the barrel;—then took them out again, and made several attempts to sort them, but perceiving the task was impossible, "Let me die," she cried, despairingly. "It is my death they seek, and death will end my misfortunes. I will not again call Percinet to my assistance. If he loved me he would have been already here." "I am here, my princess," exclaimed Percinet, rising out of the barrel in which he had concealed himself. "I am here to extricate you from the difficulty you are in. Can you doubt, after so many proofs of my affection, that I love you more than my life?"—Immediately he gave the barrel three taps with his wand, and the feathers came out by millions and sorted themselves into little heaps all round the room. "What do I not owe you, my lord!" said Gracieuse. "But for you I must have perished. Rest assured of my entire gratitude!" The prince tried everything to persuade her to take a firm resolution in his favour. She still asked for time, and though with
