er trials if
this improvement was likely to continue, and if they really loved one
another. So they caused Placida to seem to have a violent fever, and
Vivien to languish and grow dull, and made each of them very uneasy
about the other, and then, finding a moment when they were apart, the
Fairy Mirlifiche suddenly appeared to Placida, and said--

'I have just seen Prince Vivien, and he seemed to me to be very ill.'

'Alas! yes, madam,' she answered, 'and if you will but cure him, you may
take me back to the farm, or bring the Green Giant to life again, and
you shall see how obedient I will be.'

'If you really wish him to recover,' said the Fairy, 'you have only to
catch the Trotting Mouse and the Chaffinch-on-the-Wing and bring them to
me. Only remember that time presses!'

She had hardly finished speaking before the Princess was rushing
headlong out of the castle gate, and the Fairy after watching her till
she was lost to sight, gave a little chuckle and went in search of the
Prince, who begged her earnestly to send him back to the Black Castle,
or to the paper boat if she would but save Placida's life. The Fairy
shook her head, and looked very grave. She quite agreed with him, the
Princess was in a bad way--'But,' said she, 'if you can find the Rosy
Mole, and give him to her she will recover.' So now it was the Prince's
turn to set off in a vast hurry, only as soon as he left the Castle he
happened to go in exactly the opposite direction to the one Placida had
taken. Now you can imagine these two devoted lovers hunting night and
day. The Princess in the woods, always running, always listening,
pursuing hotly after two creatures which seemed to her very hard to
catch, which she yet never ceased from pursuing. The Prince on the other
hand wandering continually across the meadows, his eyes fixed upon the
ground, attentive to every movement among the moles. He was forced to
walk slowly--slowly upon tip-toe, hardly venturing to breathe. Often he
stood for hours motionless as a statue, and if the desire to succeed
could have helped him he would soon have possessed the Rosy Mole. But
alas! all that he caught were black and ordinary, though strange to say
he never grew impatient, but always seemed ready to begin the tedious
hunt again. But this changing of character is one of the most ordinary
miracles which love works. Neither the Prince nor the Princess gave a
thought to anything but their quest. It never even occurred