ready to die with joy at the thought of all that would be done to destroy the happiness of the lover and his mistress.
The queen sent the spy back to the tower, ordering her not to evince any suspicion or curiosity, but to appear more sleepy than ever. She went to bed early, and snored as loudly as she could. The poor deceived princess, opening the little window, called—
"Bird as blue as cloudless sky,
Hither, hither quickly fly!"
but in vain she called him the whole night long. He came not; for the wicked queen had caused swords, knives, razors, and daggers to be attached to the cypress-tree, so that when he flew rapidly into it, these murderous weapons cut off his feet; and he fell upon others which lacerated his wings, and wounded him so, that with great difficulty he reached his own tree, leaving behind him a long track of blood. Why were you not there, lovely Princess, to comfort that Royal Bird? And yet it would have been the death of her to have seen him in so deplorable a condition. He took no care to save his life, persuaded that it was Florine who had been guilty of this cruel treachery. "O barbarous Princess!" he exclaimed, mournfully, "is it thus thou repayest the most pure and tender passion that ever was or will be? If thou wouldst that I should die, wherefore didst thou not thyself perform the deed? Death had been sweet from thy hand. I sought thee with so much love and confidence—I suffered for thee, and suffered without complaining; and thou hast sacrificed me to the most cruel of women, our common enemy! Thou hast made thy peace with her at the price of my life! It is thou, Florine,—thou, who hast stabbed me! Thou hast borrowed the hand of Truitonne, and guided it to my bosom!" This fatal idea overwhelmed him, and he resolved to die.
But his friend the Enchanter, who had seen the flying frogs return with the car, but without the king, was so troubled to think what had become of him, that he went eight times round the world in search of him. He was on a ninth journey for the same purpose, when, in passing through the wood in which the poor king was lying, he, according to his usual custom, blew a long blast on his horn, and then cried five times, in a loud voice, "King Charmant!—King Charmant! where art thou?" The king recognised the voice
