"Unfortunate wretch that I am," he said; "I cannot even assist this poor lost child. My appearance fills her with terror! She would rather be lost than have help from me!" So saying, poor Ourson covered his face with his hands and sobbing piteously threw himself on the ground. A few moments afterwards he felt a little hand seeking to take possession of his own. He raised his head and saw the child standing before him, her eyes filled with tears. She caressed and patted the hairy cheeks of poor Ourson. "Don't cry, little cub, don't cry," said she. "Violette is no longer afraid, she will not run away again. Violette will love poor little cub. Won't little cub give his hand to Violette? And if you cry again, Violette will embrace you, poor little cub." Tears of happiness and tenderness succeeded those of despair in Ourson. Violette, seeing that he was again weeping, approached her soft rosy lips to Ourson's hairy cheek and gave him several kisses. "You see, little cub, that Violette is no longer afraid. Violette kisses you! The little cub won't eat Violette--she will follow you!" If Ourson had followed the dictates of his heart, he would have pressed her to his bosom and covered with kisses the good and charming child who overcame her natural terror in order to assuage the grief and mortification of a poor being whom she saw unfortunate and miserable. But he feared to arouse her terrors. "She would think that I was about to devour her," he said. He contented himself, therefore, with clasping her hands softly, and kissing them delicately. Violette permitted this smilingly. "Now little cub is satisfied. Little cub will love Violette, poor Violette, who is lost!" Ourson understood well that her name was Violette; but he could not comprehend how this little girl, so richly clad, was left alone in the forest. "Where do you live, my dear little Violette?" "Yonder--yonder--with papa and mamma." "What is the name of your papa?" "He is the king and dear mamma is the queen." Ourson was more and more surprised and asked: "Why are you alone in this forest?" "Violette doesn't know. Poor Violette rode on a big dog--he ran, oh! so fast--so fast, a long time! Violette was so tired, she fell down and slept!" "And the dog, where is he?" Violet turned in every direction and called softly: "Ami! Ami!" No dog appeared. "Alas! Ami has gone! Poor Violette is alone--alone!" Ourson took Violette's hand and she did not withdraw it but smiled sweetly. "Shall I go and seek mamma, Violette?" "No, no! Violette cannot stay all alone in this wood. Violette will go." "Come, then, with me, dear little girl. I will take you to my mother." Ourson and Violette now turned their steps towards the farm. Ourson gathered strawberries and cherries for Violette, who would not touch them till Ourson had eaten half. When she found that he still held his half in his hand, she took them, and placed them herself in his mouth, saying: