. Laboulaye's fairy book . g from the bitterrind of a citron. Am I asleep? he cried. Am I dreaming? If I amthe sport of a delusion, for pitys sake do not awaken me. The fairys smile soon reassured him. She accepted hishand, and was the first to ask to repair to the good kingof the Vermilion Towers, who would be so happy to blesshis children. My love, answered Carlino, I am as impatient as youto see my father and to prove to him that I was right; butwe cannot enter the castle arm in arm like two must go like a princess; you must be received like aqueen. Wait for me by this fountain
. Laboulaye's fairy book . g from the bitterrind of a citron. Am I asleep? he cried. Am I dreaming? If I amthe sport of a delusion, for pitys sake do not awaken me. The fairys smile soon reassured him. She accepted hishand, and was the first to ask to repair to the good kingof the Vermilion Towers, who would be so happy to blesshis children. My love, answered Carlino, I am as impatient as youto see my father and to prove to him that I was right; butwe cannot enter the castle arm in arm like two must go like a princess; you must be received like aqueen. Wait for me by this fountain; I will run to thepalace, and return in two hours with a dress and equipageworthy of you. Saying this, he tenderly kissed her handand left her. The young girl was afraid, on finding herself alone; thecry of a raven, the rustling of the trees, a dead branchbroken by the wind, everything frightened her. Shelooked tremblingly about her, and saw an old oak by theside of the fountain whose huge trunk offered her a shelter. 126. HE INSTANTLY GAVE HER THE WATER, WHEN, Lo! A BEAUTIFUL, SLENDER YOUNG GIRL STOOD BEFORE HIM THE THREE CITRONS She climbed the tree and hid herself in it, all but her lovelyface, which, encircled by the foliage, was reflected in thetransparent fountain as in a clear mirror. Now there was a negress, by the name of Lucy, who livedin the neighborhood, and who was sent every day by hermistress to the fountain for water. Lucy came, as usual,with her pitcher on her shoulder, and just as she was aboutto fill it, she spied the image of the fairy in the fool, who had never seen herself, thought that theface was her own. Poor Lucy! she cried. What!you, so fresh and beautiful, are forced by your mistress tocarry water like a beast of burden! No, never! And inher vanity she dashed the pitcher to the ground andreturned home. AVhen her mistress asked her why she had broken thepitcher, the slave shrugged her shoulders and said, Thepitcher that goes often to the w
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, booksubjectfairyta, bookyear1920
