re
needed no more words to send Leander all over the world. He wished
himself in China, where he bought the richest stuffs he could lay his
hands on, and got patterns of all the court fashions. From thence he
flew to Siam, where he did the same; in three days he travelled over
all the four parts of the world, and, from time to time, brought what
he bought to the Palace of Calm Delights, and hid it all in a chamber,
which he kept always locked. When he had thus collected together all
the rarities he could meet with--for he never wanted money, his rose
always supplying him--he went and bought five or six dozen of dolls,
which he caused to be dressed at Paris, the place in the world where
most regard is paid to fashions. They were all dressed differently,
and as magnificent as could be, and Leander placed them all in the
princess's closet. When she entered it, she was agreeably surprised to
see such a company of little mutes, every one decked with watches,
bracelets, diamond buckles, or necklaces; and the most remarkable of
them held a picture-box in its hand, which the princess opening, found
it contained Leander's portrait. She gave a loud shriek, and looking
upon Abricotina, "There have appeared of late," said she, "so many
wonders in this place, that I know not what to think of them:--my
birds are all grown witty; I cannot so much as wish, but presently I
have my desires; twice have I now seen the portrait of him who rescued
thee from the ruffians; and here are silks of all sorts, diamonds,
embroideries, laces, and an infinite number of other rarities. What
fairy is it that takes such care to pay me these agreeable
civilities?"

Leander was overjoyed to hear and see her so much interested about his
picture, and calling to mind that there was in a grotto which she
often frequented a certain pedestal, on which a Diana, not yet
finished, was to be erected, on this pedestal he resolved to place
himself, crowned with laurel, and holding a lyre in his hand, on which
he played like another Apollo. He most anxiously waited the princess's
retiring to the grotto, which she did every day since her thoughts had
been taken up with this unknown person; for what Abricotina had said,
joined to the sight of the picture, had almost destroyed her repose:
her lively humour changed into a pensive melancholy, and she grew a
great lover of solitude. When she entered the grotto, she made a sign
that nobody should follow her, so that her youn