prise was great at seeing close by the shy little Fawn, who
stayed not an instant longer but fled away, the Prince following.

"Stay, dear little Fawn," he cried, "I would not hurt you for the
world." But the wind carried off the words before they reached her
ears. Long he chased the poor creature, till at last worn out the Fawn
sank down on the ground and the Prince came up to her.

"Beautiful Fawn," said he, "do not fear me, I shall lead you with
me everywhere." Then he covered her with roses and fed her with the
choicest leaves and grasses.

But as evening drew near the Fawn longed to escape, for what would
happen should she suddenly change into a Princess there in the forest.
Presently the Prince went to fetch some water for her, and while he
was gone she ran homewards. The next day for a long time she hid from
the Prince, but at last he found her, and as she dashed off he shot an
arrow which wounded her in the leg.

Sad that he should have done so cruel a thing, the Prince took herbs
and laid them upon the wound, and at last he went to fetch Becafigue
to help him carry her to the house. He tied her to a tree.

Alas! Who would have thought that the most beautiful Princess in the
world would be treated thus? While she was straining at the ribbons
trying to break them, Giroflee arrived, and was leading her away when
the Prince met them and claimed the Fawn as his.

"Sir," politely replied Giroflee, "the Fawn was mine before it was
yours," and she spoke to the Fawn, and the Fawn obeyed her in such
a way that the Prince could not doubt that what she said was true.
Giroflee then went on, and, to the surprise of the Prince and
Becafigue, entered the old woman's house where they themselves lodged.
Then Becafigue told the Prince that unless he was much mistaken the
owner of the Fawn had lived with the Princess Desiree when he went
there as ambassador.

"I mean to see her again," said Becafigue, "there is only a partition
between her room and ours." And soon he had made a hole large enough
to peep through, and through it he saw the charming Princess dressed
in a robe of brocaded silver, with flowers embroidered in gold and
emeralds, her hair falling in heavy masses on the most beautiful neck
in the world. Giroflee was on her knees before her, bandaging up
one arm from which the blood was flowing. They both seemed greatly
concerned about the wound: "Let me die," the Princess was saying,
"death would be better than the