Ah, what woe
It is to know,
That we to please have lost the power!
In despair we rail at Fate,
And strive to charm when all too late.
"Youthful hearts, your time improve,
Yours the season is for love;
Youth soon flies,
Beauty dies,
And frosty age blights every flower.
Ah, what woe
It is to know,
That we to please have lost the power!
In despair we rail at Fate,
And strive to charm, when all too late."
Belle-Etoile thought the words were very pretty; she went to the balcony to see who it was singing. As soon as she appeared, Feintise, who had dressed herself very neatly, made her a low curtsey; the Princess bowed in her turn, and as she was in a lively humour, asked her if the words she had just heard were made upon herself. "Yes, charming young lady," replied Feintise, "they were made upon me; but that such may never be made upon you, I come to give you some advice, that you ought to profit by." "And what is it?" said Belle-Etoile. "If you will permit me to ascend to your chamber," added she, "you shall know." "You can come up," replied the Princess. The old woman immediately presented herself with a certain courtly air that is never lost, when once acquired.
"My fair child," said Feintise, not losing a moment, (for she was afraid some one might come and interrupt her,) "Heaven has made you very lovely—you are endowed with a brilliant star on your forehead; and they tell me many other wonderful things of you; but you yet want one thing which is essentially necessary to you; if you have it not, I pity you." "And what is it I need?" replied she. "The dancing water," added our malicious old woman; "if I had possessed it, you would not have seen a white hair upon my head, nor a wrinkle on my face. I should have had the most beautiful teeth in the world, with the most charming infantile manner. Alas! I knew this secret too late, my charms had already faded; profit by my misfortune, my dear child, it will be a consolation to me, for I feel a most extraordinary
