like it." Truitonne returned to her throne, seated on which she looked less noble than an oyster in its shell. She asked the queen what was the least price she set upon the bracelets. "You would find it difficult to pay, Madam," she answered; "I had better propose to you another sort of bargain. If you will obtain permission for me to sleep one night in the Cabinet of Echos, which is in the king's palace, I will make you a present of my emeralds." "Willingly, Mie Souillon!" said Truitonne, laughing like an idiot, and showing teeth longer than the tusks of a wild boar.
The king made no inquiry as to whence the bracelets came, less from indifference to the person by whom they were presented, (indeed, her appearance was not such as to inspire much curiosity,) than from the invincible repugnance he felt to Truitonne. Now, it is fit you should know that while he was a Blue Bird, he had told the Princess Florine that beneath his apartments there was a cabinet, which was called the Cabinet of Echos, so ingeniously constructed that the slightest whispers uttered therein could be heard by the king when reposing in his bedchamber; and as Florine's intention was to reproach him for his inconstancy, she could not have imagined a better method.
She was conducted to the cabinet by order of Truitonne, and immediately began her complaints and lamentations.
"The misfortune I would fain have doubted is but too certain, cruel Blue Bird!" she cried. "Thou hast forgotten me! Thou lovest my unworthy rival. The bracelets which I received from thy disloyal hand could awake no remembrance of me, so entirely hast thou banished me from thy recollection!" Her sobs here choked her utterance, and when she was again able to speak, she resumed her lamentations, and continued them till daybreak. The king's valets-de-chambre, who had heard her moan and sigh all night long, told Truitonne, who inquired why she had made such a disturbance. The queen answered that when she slept soundly she was in the habit of dreaming, and often talked aloud in her sleep. As to the king, by a strange fatality he had not heard her. Since he had been so deeply in love with Florine, he never could sleep, so that when he went to bed they gave him a dose of opium, in order to obtain for him some repose.
The queen passed a part of the day in great anxiety. "If he heard me," thought she, "there never yet was such cruel indifference. If he did not hear me, how shall I manage to make him do so?" She possessed no more extraordinary curiosities; she had plenty of beautiful jewels; but it was necessary to find something which should particularly take the fancy of Truitonne. She therefore had recourse to her eggs. She broke one, and out of it came immediately a coach of polished steel, inlaid with gold, drawn by six green mice, driven by a rose-coloured rat, and the postilion, who was also one of the rat tribe, was of a greyish violet colour. In the coach sat four puppets, more lively and sprightly than any that were ever seen at the fairs of St. Germain or St. Laurent. They could do all sorts of wonderful things, particularly two little gipsies, who, for dancing a saraband or a jig, would not have yielded the palm to Leance.3
The queen stood enraptured at the sight of this new masterpiece of necromantic art. She remained perfectly quiet till the evening, which was the time Truitonne usually took an airing. She posted herself in one of the walks, and set the mice galloping with the coach, rats, and puppets. This novelty so astonished Truitonne, that she called out two or three times—"Mie Souillon!—Mie Souillon! will you take five sous for your coach and set of mice?" "Ask the men of letters and learned doctors of this kingdom," said Florine, "what such a wonder is worth, and I will abide by the valuation of the best judge." Truitonne, who was imperative about everything, replied, "Without offending me longer by thy filthy presence, tell me the price." "All I ask," said Florine, "is to sleep again in the Cabinet of Echoes." "Go, poor idiot," answered Truitonne, "thou shalt have thy wish;" and, turning to her ladies-in-waiting, "There's a stupid creature," said she, "to reap no greater advantage from such curiosities!"
Night came. Florine uttered all the most touching reproaches she could think of; but as vainly as before, for the king never omitted taking his opium. The valets-de-chambre said to one another, "That country wench must surely be mad! What is she muttering about all night?" "Notwithstanding," observed some, "there is both reason and feeling in what she says." She waited impatiently for morning, to ascertain what effect her words had produced. "What," she cried, "has this barbarous man become deaf to my voice? Will he no longer listen to his dear Florine? Oh, how weak am I to love him still! How well do I deserve the scorn with which he treats me!" But in vain did she so reason; she could not divest herself of her affection for him.
There was but one more egg left in her sack, to afford her further assistance. She broke it, and out came a pie composed of six birds, which were larded, dressed, and quite ready for eating; yet, nevertheless, sang admirably, told fortunes, and knew more about medicine than Esculapius himself. The queen was enchanted at the sight of such a wonderful affair, and carried her talking pie into Truitonne's antechamber. While waiting for her to pass, one of the king's valets-de-chambre came up to her, and said, "My friend, Mie Souillon, are you aware that if the king did not take opium to make him sleep, you would disturb him dreadfully? for you chatter all night long in the most extraordinary manner."
Florine was no longer surprised that the king had not heard her: she took a handful of jewels out of her sack, and said, "I fear so little interrupting the king's repose, that if you will prevent his taking opium to-night, presuming that I sleep in the Cabinet of Echoes, all these pearls and diamonds shall be yours." The valet-de-chambre consented, and gave her his word on the matter.
A few minutes afterwards, Truitonne arrived. She perceived the queen, with her pie, which she pretended to be eating. "What dost thou there, Mie Souillon?" said Truitonne to her. "Madam," replied Florine, "I am eating astrologers, musicians, and physicians." At the same moment all the birds began to sing more melodiously than syrens, and then to cry, "Give us a piece of silver, and we'll tell you your fortune." A duck that was particularly prominent, called out, in a voice louder than any of the others, "Quack! quack! quack! quack! I am a physician; I cure all disorders and every sort of madness, except that of love." Truitonne, more surprised at so many wonders than ever she had been in her life, vowed it was an excellent pie, and that she would have it. "Come, come, Mie Souillon, what shall I give thee for it?" "The usual price," answered Florine; "permission to sleep in the Cabinet of Echoes—nothing more." "Hold!" said Truitonne, generously (for she was in a capital humour, in consequence of her acquisition of such a pie), "thou shalt have a pistole into the bargain." Florine, happier than she had yet been, in the hope that the king would at length hear her, took her leave of Truitonne, with many thanks.
As soon as night came, she requested to be conducted to the Cabinet, ardently hoping that the valet-de-chambre would keep his word, and that, instead of giving the king his opium draught, he would substitute for it something that would keep his majesty awake. When she thought everybody else was asleep, she began her usual lamentations. "To how many perils have I exposed myself," she said, "in search of thee; whilst thou hast fled from me, and wouldst marry Truitonne! What have I done to thee, thou cruel one, that thou shouldst thus forget thy vows? Remember thy metamorphosis, my favours, and our tender conversations!" She repeated them nearly all, her memory sufficiently proving that nothing was dearer to her than such recollections.
The king was not asleep, and so distinctly heard the voice of Florine, and every word she uttered, that he could not imagine whence they proceeded; but his heart, penetrated with tenderness, recalled to him so vividly the person of his incomparable princess, that he felt his separation from her as keenly as he did at the moment the knives had wounded him in the cypress-tree. He began to speak aloud on his part, as the queen had done on hers. "Ah, Princess," said he, "too cruel to a lover who adored you! Is it possible that you can have sacrificed me to our mutual enemies?" Florine heard what he said, and failed not to answer him, and to inform him that, if he would grant Mie Souillon an audience, he would be enlightened respecting all the mysteries which hitherto he had been unable to penetrate. At these words, the impatient king called one of his valets-de-chambre, and asked him if he could find Mie Souillon, and bring her to him. The valet-de-chambre replied, that nothing could be more easy, as she was sleeping in the Cabinet of Echoes.
The king knew not what to think. How could he believe so great a queen as Florine was disguised as a scullion? And yet, how could he imagine that Mie Souillon had the voice of the queen, and was in possession of such particular secrets, if she were not Florine herself? In this uncertainty he arose and dressed