The Wonderful Sheep

THE WONDERFUL SHEEP

Once upon a time--in the days when the fairies lived--there was a king

who had three daughters, who were all young, and clever, and beautiful;

but the youngest of the three, who was called Miranda, was the prettiest

and the most beloved.

The King, her father, gave her more dresses and jewels in a month than

he gave the others in a year; but she was so generous that she shared

everything with her sisters, and they were all as happy and as fond of

one another as they could be.

Now, the King had some quarrelsome neighbors, who, tired of leaving him

in peace, began to make war upon him so fiercely that he feared he would

be altogether beaten if he did not make an effort to defend himself.

So he collected a great army and set off to fight them, leaving the

Princesses with their governess in a castle where news of the war was

brought every day--sometimes that the King had taken a town, or won a

battle, and, at last, that he had altogether overcome his enemies and

chased them out of his kingdom, and was coming back to the castle as

quickly as possible, to see his dear little Miranda whom he loved so

much.

The three Princesses put on dresses of satin, which they had had made

on purpose for this great occasion, one green, one blue, and the third

white; their jewels were the same colors. The eldest wore emeralds, the

second turquoises, and the youngest diamonds, and thus adorned they

went to meet the King, singing verses which they had composed about his

victories.

When he saw them all so beautiful and so gay he embraced them tenderly,

but gave Miranda more kisses than either of the others.

Presently a splendid banquet was served, and the King and his daughters

sat down to it, and as he always thought that there was some special

meaning in everything, he said to the eldest:

“Tell me why you have chosen a green dress.”

“Sire,” she answered, “having heard of your victories I thought that

green would signify my joy and the hope of your speedy return.”

“That is a very good answer,” said the King; “and you, my daughter,” he

continued, “why did you take a blue dress?”

“Sire,” said the Princess, “to show that we constantly hoped for your

success, and that the sight of you is as welcome to me as the sky with

its most beautiful stars.”

“Why,” said the King, “your wise answers astonish me, and you, Miranda.

What made you dress yourself all in white?

“Because, sire,” she answered, “white suits me better than anything

else.”

“What!” said the King angrily, “was that all you thought of, vain

child?”

“I thought you would be pleased with me,” said the Princess; “that was

all.”

The King, who loved her, was satisfied with this, and even pretended to

be pleased that she had not told him all her reasons at first.

“And now,” said he, “as I have supped well, and it is not time yet to go

to bed, tell me what you dreamed last night.”

The eldest said she had dreamed that he brought her a dress, and the

precious stones and gold embroidery on it were brighter than the sun.

The dream of the second was that the King had brought her a spinning

wheel and a distaff, that she might spin him some shirts.

But the youngest said: “I dreamed that my second sister was to be

married, and on her wedding-day, you, father, held a golden ewer and

said: ‘Come, Miranda, and I will hold the water that you may dip your

hands in it.’”

The King was very angry indeed when he heard this dream, and frowned

horribly; indeed, he made such an ugly face that everyone knew how angry

he was, and he got up and went off to bed in a great hurry; but he could

not forget his daughter’s dream.

“Does the proud girl wish to make me her slave?” he said to himself. “I

am not surprised at her choosing to dress herself in white satin without

a thought of me. She does not think me worthy of her consideration! But

I will soon put an end to her pretensions!”

He rose in a fury, and although it was not yet daylight, he sent for the

Captain of his Bodyguard, and said to him:

“You have heard the Princess Miranda’s dream? I consider that it means

strange things against me, therefore I order you to take her away into

the forest and kill her, and, that I may be sure it is done, you must

bring me her heart and her tongue. If you attempt to deceive me you

shall be put to death!”

The Captain of the Guard was very much astonished when he heard this

barbarous order, but he did not dare to contradict the King for fear of

making him still more angry, or causing him to send someone else, so he

answered that he would fetch the Princess and do as the King had said.

When he went to her room they would hardly let him in, it was so early,

but he said that the King had sent for Miranda, and she got up quickly

and came out; a little black girl called Patypata held up her train, and

her pet monkey and her little dog ran after her. The monkey was called

Grabugeon, and the little dog Tintin.

The Captain of the Guard begged Miranda to come down into the garden

where the King was enjoying the fresh air, and when they got there, he

pretended to search for him, but as he was not to be found, he said:

“No doubt his Majesty has strolled into the forest,” and he opened the

little door that led to it and they went through.

By this time the daylight had begun to appear, and the Princess, looking

at her conductor, saw that he had tears in his eyes and seemed too sad

to speak.

“What is the matter?” she said in the kindest way. “You seem very

sorrowful.”

“Alas! Princess,” he answered, “who would not be sorrowful who was

ordered to do such a terrible thing as I am? The King has commanded me

to kill you here, and carry your heart and your tongue to him, and if I

disobey I shall lose my life.”

The poor Princess was terrified, she grew very pale and began to cry

softly.

Looking up at the Captain of the Guard with her beautiful eyes, she said

gently:

“Will you really have the heart to kill me? I have never done you any

harm, and have always spoken well of you to the King. If I had deserved

my father’s anger I would suffer without a murmur, but, alas! he is

unjust to complain of me, when I have always treated him with love and

respect.”

“Fear nothing, Princess,” said the Captain of the Guard. “I would far

rather die myself than hurt you; but even if I am killed you will not

be safe: we must find some way of making the King believe that you are

dead.”

“What can we do?” said Miranda; “unless you take him my heart and my

tongue he will never believe you.”

The Princess and the Captain of the Guard were talking so earnestly that

they did not think of Patypata, but she had overheard all they said, and

now came and threw herself at Miranda’s feet.

“Madam,” she said, “I offer you my life; let me be killed, I shall be

only too happy to die for such a kind mistress.”

“Why, Patypata,” cried the Princess, kissing her, “that would never do;

your life is as precious to me as my own, especially after such a proof

of your affection as you have just given me.”

“You are right, Princess,” said Grabugeon, coming forward, “to love such

a faithful slave as Patypata; she is of more use to you than I am, I

offer you my tongue and my heart most willingly, especially as I wish to

make a great name for myself in Goblin Land.”

“No, no, my little Grabugeon,” replied Miranda, “I cannot bear the

thought of taking your life.”

“Such a good little dog as I am,” cried Tintin, “could not think of

letting either of you die for his mistress. If anyone is to die for her

it must be me.”

And then began a great dispute between Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin,

and they came to high words, until at last Grabugeon, who was quicker

than the others, ran up to the very top of the nearest tree, and let

herself fall, head first, to the ground, and there she lay--quite dead!

The Princess was very sorry, but as Grabugeon was really dead, she

allowed the Captain of the Guard to take her tongue; but, alas! it

was such a little one--not bigger than the Princess’s thumb--that they

decided sorrowfully that it was of no use at all: the King would not

have been taken in by it for a moment!

“Alas! my little monkey,” cried the Princess, “I have lost you, and yet

I am no better off than I was before.”

“The honor of saving your life is to be mine,” interrupted Patypata,

and, before they could prevent her, she had picked up a knife and cut

her head off in an instant.

But when the Captain of the Guard would have taken her tongue it turned

out to be quite black, so that would not have deceived the King either.

“Am I not unlucky?” cried the poor Princess; “I lose everything I love,

and am none the better for it.”

“If you had accepted my offer,” said Tintin, “you would only have had me

to regret, and I should have had all your gratitude.”

Miranda kissed her little dog, crying so bitterly, that at last she

could bear it no longer, and turned away into the forest. When she

looked back the Captain of the Guard was gone, and she was alone, except

for Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin, who lay upon the ground. She could

not leave the place until she had buried them in a pretty little mossy

grave at the foot of a tree, and she wrote their names upon the bark of

the tree, and how they had all died to save her life. And then she began

to think where she could go for safety--for this forest was so close to

her father’s castle that she might be seen and recognized by the first

passer-by, and, besides that, it was full of lions and wolves, who would

have snapped up a princess just as soon as a stray chicken. So she began

to walk as fast as she could, but the forest was so large and the sun

was so hot that she nearly died of heat and terror and fatigue; look

which way she would there seemed to be no end to the forest, and she

was so frightened that she fancied every minute that she heard the King

running after her to kill her. You may imagine how miserable she was,

and how she cried as she went on, not knowing which path to follow, and

with the thorny bushes scratching her dreadfully and tearing her pretty

frock to pieces.

At last she heard the bleating of a sheep, and said to herself:

“No doubt there are shepherds here with their flocks; they will show me

the way to some village where I can live disguised as a peasant girl.

Alas! it is not always kings and princes who are the happiest people in

the world. Who could have believed that I should ever be obliged to run

away and hide because the King, for no reason at all, wishes to kill

me?”

So saying she advanced toward the place where she heard the bleating,

but what was her surprise when, in a lovely little glade quite

surrounded by trees, she saw a large sheep; its wool was as white as

snow, and its horns shone like gold; it had a garland of flowers round

its neck, and strings of great pearls about its legs, and a collar of

diamonds; it lay upon a bank of orange-flowers, under a canopy of cloth

of gold which protected it from the heat of the sun. Nearly a hundred

other sheep were scattered about, not eating the grass, but some

drinking coffee, lemonade, or sherbet, others eating ices, strawberries

and cream, or sweetmeats, while others, again, were playing games. Many

of them wore golden collars with jewels, flowers, and ribbons.

Miranda stopped short in amazement at this unexpected sight, and was

looking in all directions for the shepherd of this surprising flock,

when the beautiful sheep came bounding toward her.

“Approach, lovely Princess,” he cried; “have no fear of such gentle and

peaceable animals as we are.”

“What a marvel!” cried the Princess, starting back a little. “Here is a

sheep that can talk.”

“Your monkey and your dog could talk, madam,” said he; “are you more

astonished at us than at them?”

“A fairy gave them the power to speak,” replied Miranda. “So I was used

to them.”

“Perhaps the same thing has happened to us,” he said, smiling

sheepishly. “But, Princess, what can have led you here?”

“A thousand misfortunes, Sir Sheep,” she answered.

“I am the unhappiest princess in the world, and I am seeking a shelter

against my father’s anger.”

“Come with me, madam,” said the Sheep; “I offer you a hiding-place which

you only will know of, and where you will be mistress of everything you

see.”

“I really cannot follow you,” said Miranda, “for I am too tired to walk

another step.”

The Sheep with the golden horns ordered that his chariot should be

fetched, and a moment after appeared six goats, harnessed to a pumpkin,

which was so big that two people could quite well sit in it, and was all

lined with cushions of velvet and down. The Princess stepped into it,

much amused at such a new kind of carriage, the King of the Sheep took

his place beside her, and the goats ran away with them at full speed,

and only stopped when they reached a cavern, the entrance to which

was blocked by a great stone. This the King touched with his foot, and

immediately it fell down, and he invited the Princess to enter without

fear. Now, if she had not been so alarmed by everything that had

happened, nothing could have induced her to go into this frightful cave,

but she was so afraid of what might be behind her that she would have

thrown herself even down a well at this moment. So, without hesitation,

she followed the Sheep, who went before her, down, down, down, until she

thought they must come out at the other side of the world--indeed, she

was not sure that he wasn’t leading her into Fairyland. At last she saw

before her a great plain, quite covered with all sorts of flowers, the

scent of which seemed to her nicer than anything she had ever smelled

before; a broad river of orange-flower water flowed round it and

fountains of wine of every kind ran in all directions and made the

prettiest little cascades and brooks. The plain was covered with the

strangest trees, there were whole avenues where partridges, ready

roasted, hung from every branch, or, if you preferred pheasants, quails,

turkeys, or rabbits, you had only to turn to the right hand or to the

left and you were sure to find them. In places the air was darkened by

showers of lobster-patties, white puddings, sausages, tarts, and all

sorts of sweetmeats, or with pieces of gold and silver, diamonds and

pearls. This unusual kind of rain, and the pleasantness of the whole

place, would, no doubt, have attracted numbers of people to it, if the

King of the Sheep had been of a more sociable disposition, but from all

accounts it is evident that he was as grave as a judge.

As it was quite the nicest time of the year when Miranda arrived in this

delightful land the only palace she saw was a long row of orange trees,

jasmines, honeysuckles, and musk-roses, and their interlacing branches

made the prettiest rooms possible, which were hung with gold and silver

gauze, and had great mirrors and candlesticks, and most beautiful

pictures. The Wonderful Sheep begged that the Princess would consider

herself queen over all that she saw, and assured her that, though for

some years he had been very sad and in great trouble, she had it in her

power to make him forget all his grief.

“You are so kind and generous, noble Sheep,” said the Princess, “that I

cannot thank you enough, but I must confess that all I see here seems to

me so extraordinary that I don’t know what to think of it.”

As she spoke a band of lovely fairies came up and offered her amber

baskets full of fruit, but when she held out her hands to them they

glided away, and she could feel nothing when she tried to touch them.

“Oh!” she cried, “what can they be? Whom am I with?” and she began to

cry.

At this instant the King of the Sheep came back to her, and was so

distracted to find her in tears that he could have torn his wool.

“What is the matter, lovely Princess?” he cried. “Has anyone failed to

treat you with due respect?”

“Oh! no,” said Miranda; “only I am not used to living with sprites and

with sheep that talk, and everything here frightens me. It was very kind

of you to bring me to this place, but I shall be even more grateful to

you if you will take me up into the world again.”

“Do not be afraid,” said the Wonderful Sheep; “I entreat you to have

patience, and listen to the story of my misfortunes. I was once a king,

and my kingdom was the most splendid in the world. My subjects loved me,

my neighbors envied and feared me. I was respected by everyone, and it

was said that no king ever deserved it more.

“I was very fond of hunting, and one day, while chasing a stag, I left

my attendants far behind; suddenly I saw the animal leap into a pool of

water, and I rashly urged my horse to follow it, but before we had gone

many steps I felt an extraordinary heat, instead of the coolness of the

water; the pond dried up, a great gulf opened before me, out of which

flames of fire shot up, and I fell helplessly to the bottom of a

precipice.

“I gave myself up for lost, but presently a voice said: ‘Ungrateful

Prince, even this fire is hardly enough to warm your cold heart!’

“‘Who complains of my coldness in this dismal place?’ I cried.

“‘An unhappy being who loves you hopelessly,’ replied the voice, and at

the same moment the flames began to flicker and cease to burn, and I

saw a fairy, whom I had known as long as I could remember, and whose

ugliness had always horrified me. She was leaning upon the arm of a

most beautiful young girl, who wore chains of gold on her wrists and was

evidently her slave.

“‘Why, Ragotte,’ I said, for that was the fairy’s name, ‘what is the

meaning of all this? Is it by your orders that I am here?’

“‘And whose fault is it,’ she answered, ‘that you have never understood

me until now? Must a powerful fairy like myself condescend to explain

her doings to you who are no better than an ant by comparison, though

you think yourself a great king?’

“‘Call me what you like,’ I said impatiently; ‘but what is it that you

want--my crown, or my cities, or my treasures?’

“‘Treasures!’ said the fairy, disdainfully. ‘If I chose I could make

any one of my scullions richer and more powerful than you. I do not

want your treasures, but,’ she added softly, ‘if you will give me your

heart--if you will marry me--I will add twenty kingdoms to the one you

have already; you shall have a hundred castles full of gold and five

hundred full of silver, and, in short, anything you like to ask me for.’

“‘Madam Ragotte,’ said I, ‘when one is at the bottom of a pit where one

has fully expected to be roasted alive, it is impossible to think of

asking such a charming person as you are to marry one! I beg that you

will set me at liberty, and then I shall hope to answer you fittingly.’

“‘Ah!’ said she, ‘if you really loved me you would not care where you

were--a cave, a wood, a fox-hole, a desert, would please you equally

well. Do not think that you can deceive me; you fancy you are going to

escape, but I assure you that you are going to stay here and the first

thing I shall give you to do will be to keep my sheep--they are very

good company and speak quite as well as you do.

“As she spoke she advanced, and led me to this plain where we now stand,

and showed me her flock, but I paid little attention to it or to her.

“To tell the truth, I was so lost in admiration of her beautiful slave

that I forgot everything else, and the cruel Ragotte, perceiving this,

turned upon her so furious and terrible a look that she fell lifeless to

the ground.

“At this dreadful sight I drew my sword and rushed at Ragotte, and

should certainly have cut off her head had she not by her magic arts

chained me to the spot on which I stood; all my efforts to move were

useless, and at last, when I threw myself down on the ground in despair,

she said to me, with a scornful smile:

“‘I intend to make you feel my power. It seems that you are a lion at

present, I mean you to be a sheep.’

“So saying, she touched me with her wand, and I became what you see. I

did not lose the power of speech, or of feeling the misery of my present

state.

“‘For five years,’ she said, ‘you shall be a sheep, and lord of this

pleasant land, while I, no longer able to see your face, which I loved

so much, shall be better able to hate you as you deserve to be hated.’

“She disappeared as she finished speaking, and if I had not been too

unhappy to care about anything I should have been glad that she was

gone.

“The talking sheep received me as their king, and told me that they,

too, were unfortunate princes who had, in different ways, offended the

revengeful fairy, and had been added to her flock for a certain number

of years; some more, some less. From time to time, indeed, one regains

his own proper form and goes back again to his place in the upper world;

but the other beings whom you saw are the rivals or the enemies of

Ragotte, whom she has imprisoned for a hundred years or so; though even

they will go back at last. The young slave of whom I told you about is

one of these; I have seen her often, and it has been a great pleasure to

me. She never speaks to me, and if I were nearer to her I know I should

find her only a shadow, which would be very annoying. However, I noticed

that one of my companions in misfortune was also very attentive to this

little sprite, and I found out that he had been her lover, whom the

cruel Ragotte had taken away from her long before; since then I have

cared for, and thought of, nothing but how I might regain my freedom.

I have often been in the forest; that is where I have seen you, lovely

Princess, sometimes driving your chariot, which you did with all the

grace and skill in the world; sometimes riding to the chase on so

spirited a horse that it seemed as if no one but yourself could have

managed it, and sometimes running races on the plain with the Princesses

of your Court--running so lightly that it was you always who won the

prize. Oh! Princess, I have loved you so long, and yet how dare I

tell you of my love! what hope can there be for an unhappy sheep like

myself?”

Miranda was so surprised and confused by all that she had heard that

she hardly knew what answer to give to the King of the Sheep, but she

managed to make some kind of little speech, which certainly did not

forbid him to hope, and said that she should not be afraid of the

shadows now she knew that they would some day come to life again.

“Alas!” she continued, “if my poor Patypata, my dear Grabugeon, and

pretty little Tintin, who all died for my sake, were equally well off, I

should have nothing left to wish for here!”

Prisoner though he was, the King of the Sheep had still some powers and

privileges.

“Go,” said he to his Master of the Horse, “go and seek the shadows of

the little black girl, the monkey, and the dog: they will amuse our

Princess.”

And an instant afterward Miranda saw them coming toward her, and their

presence gave her the greatest pleasure, though they did not come near

enough for her to touch them.

The King of the Sheep was so kind and amusing, and loved Miranda so

dearly, that at last she began to love him too. Such a handsome

sheep, who was so polite and considerate, could hardly fail to please,

especially if one knew that he was really a king, and that his strange

imprisonment would soon come to an end. So the Princess’s days passed

very gaily while she waited for the happy time to come. The King of

the Sheep, with the help of all the flock, got up balls, concerts, and

hunting parties, and even the shadows joined in all the fun, and came,

making believe to be their own real selves.

One evening, when the couriers arrived (for the King sent most carefully

for news--and they always brought the very best kinds), it was announced

that the sister of the Princess Miranda was going to be married to

a great Prince, and that nothing could be more splendid than all the

preparations for the wedding.

“Ah!” cried the young Princess, “how unlucky I am to miss the sight of

so many pretty things! Here am I imprisoned under the earth, with no

company but sheep and shadows, while my sister is to be adorned like a

queen and surrounded by all who love and admire her, and everyone but

myself can go to wish her joy!”

“Why do you complain, Princess?” said the King of the Sheep. “Did I say

that you were not to go to the wedding? Set out as soon as you please;

only promise me that you will come back, for I love you too much to be

able to live without you.”

Miranda was very grateful to him, and promised faithfully that nothing

in the world should keep her from coming back. The King caused an escort

suitable to her rank to be got ready for her, and she dressed herself

splendidly, not forgetting anything that could make her more beautiful.

Her chariot was of mother-of-pearl, drawn by six dun-colored griffins

just brought from the other side of the world, and she was attended by a

number of guards in splendid uniforms, who were all at least eight feet

high and had come from far and near to ride in the Princess’s train.

Miranda reached her father’s palace just as the wedding ceremony began,

and everyone, as soon as she came in, was struck with surprise at

her beauty and the splendor of her jewels. She heard exclamations

of admiration on all sides; and the King her father looked at her so

attentively that she was afraid he must recognize her; but he was so

sure that she was dead that the idea never occurred to him.

However, the fear of not getting away made her leave before the marriage

was over. She went out hastily, leaving behind her a little coral casket

set with emeralds. On it was written in diamond letters: “Jewels for the

Bride,” and when they opened it, which they did as soon as it was found,

there seemed to be no end to the pretty things it contained. The King,

who had hoped to join the unknown Princess and find out who she was,

was dreadfully disappointed when she disappeared so suddenly, and gave

orders that if she ever came again the doors were to be shut that she

might not get away so easily. Short as Miranda’s absence had been, it

had seemed like a hundred years to the King of the Sheep. He was waiting

for her by a fountain in the thickest part of the forest, and the ground

was strewn with splendid presents which he had prepared for her to show

his joy and gratitude at her coming back.

As soon as she was in sight he rushed to meet her, leaping and bounding

like a real sheep. He caressed her tenderly, throwing himself at her

feet and kissing her hands, and told her how uneasy he had been in

her absence, and how impatient for her return, with an eloquence which

charmed her.

After some time came the news that the King’s second daughter was going

to be married. When Miranda heard it she begged the King of the Sheep

to allow her to go and see the wedding as before. This request made him

feel very sad, as if some misfortune must surely come of it, but his

love for the Princess being stronger than anything else he did not like

to refuse her.

“You wish to leave me, Princess,” said he; “it is my unhappy fate--you

are not to blame. I consent to your going, but, believe me, I can give

you no stronger proof of my love than by so doing.”

The Princess assured him that she would only stay a very short time, as

she had done before, and begged him not to be uneasy, as she would be

quite as much grieved if anything detained her as he could possibly be.

So, with the same escort, she set out, and reached the palace as the

marriage ceremony began. Everybody was delighted to see her; she was

so pretty that they thought she must be some fairy princess, and the

Princes who were there could not take their eyes off her.

The King was more glad than anyone else that she had come again, and

gave orders that the doors should all be shut and bolted that very

minute. When the wedding was all but over the Princess got up quickly,

hoping to slip away unnoticed among the crowd, but, to her great dismay,

she found every door fastened.

She felt more at ease when the King came up to her, and with the

greatest respect begged her not to run away so soon, but at least to

honor him by staying for the splendid feast which was prepared for the

Princes and Princesses. He led her into a magnificent hall, where all

the Court was assembled, and himself taking up the golden bowl full of

water, he offered it to her that she might dip her pretty fingers into

it.

At this the Princess could no longer contain herself; throwing herself

at the King’s feet, she cried out:

“My dream has come true after all--you have offered me water to wash my

hands on my sister’s wedding day, and it has not vexed you to do it.”

The King recognized her at once--indeed, he had already thought several

times how much like his poor little Miranda she was.

“Oh! my dear daughter,” he cried, kissing her, “can you ever forget my

cruelty? I ordered you to be put to death because I thought your dream

portended the loss of my crown. And so it did,” he added, “for now your

sisters are both married and have kingdoms of their own--and mine shall

be for you.” So saying he put his crown on the Princess’s head and

cried:

“Long live Queen Miranda!”

All the Court cried: “Long live Queen Miranda!” after him, and the young

Queen’s two sisters came running up, and threw their arms round her

neck, and kissed her a thousand times, and then there was such a

laughing and crying, talking and kissing, all at once, and Miranda

thanked her father, and began to ask after everyone--particularly

the Captain of the Guard, to whom she owed so much; but, to her great

sorrow, she heard that he was dead. Presently they sat down to the

banquet, and the King asked Miranda to tell them all that had happened

to her since the terrible morning when he had sent the Captain of the

Guard to fetch her. This she did with so much spirit that all the guests

listened with breathless interest. But while she was thus enjoying

herself with the King and her sisters, the King of the Sheep was waiting

impatiently for the time of her return, and when it came and went, and

no Princess appeared, his anxiety became so great that he could bear it

no longer.

“She is not coming back any more,” he cried. “My miserable sheep’s

face displeases her, and without Miranda what is left to me, wretched

creature that I am! Oh! cruel Ragotte; my punishment is complete.”

For a long time he bewailed his sad fate like this, and then, seeing

that it was growing dark, and that still there was no sign of the

Princess, he set out as fast as he could in the direction of the town.

When he reached the palace he asked for Miranda, but by this time

everyone had heard the story of her adventures, and did not want her to

go back again to the King of the Sheep, so they refused sternly to let

him see her. In vain he begged and prayed them to let him in; though

his entreaties might have melted hearts of stone they did not move the

guards of the palace, and at last, quite broken-hearted, he fell dead at

their feet.

In the meantime the King, who had not the least idea of the sad thing

that was happening outside the gate of his palace, proposed to Miranda

that she should be driven in her chariot all round the town, which was

to be illuminated with thousands and thousands of torches, placed in

windows and balconies, and in all the grand squares. But what a sight

met her eyes at the very entrance of the palace! There lay her dear,

kind sheep, silent and motionless, upon the pavement!

She threw herself out of the chariot and ran to him, crying bitterly,

for she realized that her broken promise had cost him his life, and for

a long, long time she was so unhappy that they thought she would have

died too.

So you see that even a princess is not always happy--especially if she

forgets to keep her word; and the greatest misfortunes often happen to

people just as they think they have obtained their heart’s desires!(1)

(1) Madame d’Aulnoy.