The wicked Feintise had just returned to her little cottage after discoursing with the Queen-Mother upon her projects. She was too uneasy to sleep quietly. She heard the sweet singing of the apple, that nothing in nature could equal. She felt sure that it had been obtained! She cried, she groaned, she scratched her face, she tore her hair; her grief was excessive, for instead of doing harm to these lovely children, as she intended, she did them good by all her perfidious counsels. As soon as it was day she learned but too truly that the Prince had returned. She went to the Queen-Mother. "Well, Feintise," said this Princess, "dost thou bring me good news? have the children perished?" "No, Madam," said she, throwing herself at her feet; "but let not your Majesty be impatient, I have yet left an infinite number of means by which I may yet get rid of them." "Ah! wretched creature," said the Queen, "thou livest but to betray me; thou sparest them." The old woman protested to the contrary; and when she had appeased her slightly, she returned home, to consider what was to be done.
She allowed some days to pass by without showing herself; and at the end of that time, she watched so well, that she encountered the Princess walking in the forest alone, waiting for her brothers. "Heaven crowns you with blessings, charming Etoile," said this wicked woman, accosting her. "I have heard that you are in possession of the singing apple. I could not have been more delighted had such good fortune happened to myself, for I must own I feel a great interest in all that tends to your advantage; but," continued she, "I must now give you another piece of advice." "Ah! keep your advice to yourself," said the Princess, hurrying away from her, "for whatever good it may bring me, it does not recompense me for the anxiety I suffer in consequence of it."
"Anxiety is not so great an evil," replied Feintise, smiling. "There are sweet and tender anxieties." "Say no more," added Belle-Etoile; "I tremble when I think of it." "Truly," said the old woman, "you are much to be pitied, for being the loveliest and most intellectual girl in the world." "I must entreat your pardon, once for all," replied the Princess. "I know too well the state my brother's absence reduced me to." "I must, notwithstanding, assure you," continued Feintise, "that you still need the little green bird, which tells every-
