to her, when he reflected on the difficulties she had enabled him to surmount in obtaining the dancing water. The mouth of the golden vase was so perfectly secured, that he could not spill the water, nor would it evaporate. He was amusing himself by thinking how delighted Belle-Etoile would be to receive it, and what joy it would be to him to see her again, when he saw coming at full speed several cavaliers, who no sooner perceived him than they uttered loud shouts, pointing him out to one another. He was void of fear—his soul was of that intrepid character, it could not easily be shaken by any danger; still he was annoyed to be stopped by anything. He spurred his horse towards them, and was agreeably surprised to recognise some of his domestics, who presented him with several little notes—or, I should rather say, orders—the Princess had given them for him, to tell him not to expose himself to the dangers of the luminous forest. He kissed Belle-Etoile's writing; he sighed more than once, and hastened to return to her, to relieve her from further anxiety.
On his arrival, he found her seated under some trees, where she had abandoned herself to her sorrow. When she saw him at her feet, she knew not how to welcome him: she wanted to scold him for acting contrary to her orders; she wished to thank him for the charming present he had made her: in fine, her affection prevailed. She embraced her dear brother, and her reproaches were not very severe.
The old Feintise, who was always on the watch, knew by her spies that Cheri had returned, handsomer than he was before he went away; and that the Princess, having washed her face with the dancing water, had become so excessively lovely, one could scarcely look at her without dying half-a-dozen deaths.
Feintise was much astonished and much afflicted, for she had made up her mind that the Prince would perish in so great an enterprise; but it was no time to be discouraged. She watched the moment when the Princess went to a little temple of Diana, with few attendants. She accosted her, and, with an air of great friendship, said: "How delighted I am, Madam, at the happy effect of my advice! One might know, by looking at you, that you at present use the dancing water; but if I dare counsel you further, you ought to make yourself mistress of the singing apple. It is quite a different thing;
