send him to sea or carry him to the wars. It was then that love, disguised under the specious form of natural affection, established itself in these young hearts. At fourteen, Belle-Etoile began to reproach herself with the injustice she felt she was doing her brothers by not loving them all equally well. She imagined that the attentions and caresses of Cheri were the cause of it. She forbade him to seek more opportunities of pleasing her. "You have already found but too many," said she to him graciously; "and you have succeeded in causing me to make a great difference between our brothers and yourself." What joy did he not feel at hearing her speak thus? Far from relaxing in his assiduities, he redoubled them, and every day paid her some new and gallant attention.
They were as yet ignorant both of the extent and of the nature of their affection, when one day some new books were brought to Belle-Etoile. She took up the first that came to hand. It was the history of two young lovers, whose passion had commenced whilst they considered themselves brother and sister. They had afterwards been discovered by their families, and eventually, after passing through infinite troubles, espoused each other.[1] As Cheri read remarkably well, and not only understood what he read, but had the faculty of conveying the full sense of it to others, the Princess requested him to read to her, while she finished some work in flock-silk which she was anxious to complete. He read, therefore, the above story, and it was not without much emotion that he discovered in it a perfect description of all his feelings. Belle-Etoile was not less surprised. It seemed as though the author had read all that was passing in her soul. The more Cheri read the more he was agitated. The more the Princess listened, the more was she affected. Despite of all her efforts her eyes filled with tears, and they ran down her cheeks. Cheri, also, struggled in vain against his feelings. He turned pale, his voice faltered. Each of them suffered all that can be imagined under such circumstances. "Ah, sister," he exclaimed, gazing on her sadly and dropping the book, "how happy was Hippolyte in not being the brother of Julie!" "We are not so fortunate," replied she; "alas, do we less deserve
- ↑ The names of Hippolyte and Julie which follow, show that Madame d'Aulnoy here alludes to her own novel, "Histoire d'Hippolyte, Comte de Duglas."
