now time to return to the King. While the enemy kept him shut
up in his capital, he could not continually send messengers to the
Queen. At last, however, after several sorties, he obliged the besiegers
to retire, and he rejoiced at his success less on his own account, than
on that of the Queen, whom he could now bring back in safety. He was in
total ignorance of the disaster which had befallen her, for none of his
officers had dared to tell him of it. They had been into the forest and
found the remains of the chariot, the runaway horses, and the driving
apparel which she had put on when going to find her husband. As they
were fully persuaded that she was dead, and had been eaten by wild
beasts, their only care was to make the King believe that she had died
suddenly. On receiving this mournful intelligence, he thought he should
die himself of grief; he tore his hair, he wept many tears, and gave
vent to his bereavement in every imaginable expression of sorrow, cries,
sobs, and sighs. For some days he would see no one, nor allow himself to
be seen; he then returned to his capital, and entered on a long period
of mourning, to which the sorrow of his heart testified more sincerely
than even his sombre garments of grief. All the surrounding kings sent
their ambassadors charged with messages of condolence; and when the
ceremonies, indispensable to these occasions, were over, he granted his
subjects a period of peace, exempting them from military service, and
helping them, in every possible way, to improve their commerce.

The Queen knew nothing of all this. Meanwhile a little Princess had been
born to her, as beautiful as the Frog had predicted, to whom they gave
the name of Moufette. The Queen had great difficulty in persuading the
fairy to allow her to bring up the child, for so ferocious was she, that
she would have liked to eat it. Moufette, a wonder of beauty, was now
six months old; the Queen, as she looked upon her with a tenderness
mingled with pity, continually said: "Ah! if your father could see you,
my poor little one, how delighted he would be! how dear you would be to
him! But even, already, maybe, he has begun to forget me; he believes,
no doubt, that we are lost to him in death; and perhaps another fills
the place in his heart, that once was mine."

These sorrowful reflections caused her many tears; the Frog, who truly
loved her, seeing her cry like this, said to her one day: "If you would
like me to do so, ma