"Already twenty years old!" thought she. "If he persists in living in this solitude and seeing no one and in refusing to change with Violette, who asks nothing better, I am certain, I am convinced, he will wear this bear-skin till his death." Agnella wept, often wept; but her tears brought her no remedy. The day Violette had her frightful dream, Agnella also had a dream. The fairy Drolette had appeared to her: "Courage, queen," she said to her, "in a few days Ourson will lose his bear's skin and you can give him his true name of Prince Marvellous." Agnella had awaked full of hope and happiness. She redoubled her tenderness to Violette, believing that it was to her she would owe the happiness of her son. Every one retired at night with different feelings. Violette and Ourson, full of anxiety for the future which appeared so threatening, Agnella's heart bounding with joy at that same future which appeared so near and so replete with happiness, Passerose, astonished at the melancholy of the one and the joy of the other and ignorant of the cause of both. All slept, however. Violette after weeping profusely. Ourson after having invoked the fairy Drolette; Agnella after smiling and thinking of Ourson handsome and attractive and Passerose after saying to herself a hundred times: "But what is the matter with them all to-day?" Scarcely an hour after all at the farm were asleep, Violette was aroused by the smell of fire and smoke. Agnella awoke at the same moment. "Mother," said Violette, "do you not smell something?" "The house is on fire," said Agnella. "Look what a light is round about us!" They sprang from their beds and ran to the parlor. The flames had already taken possession of it and of the neighboring chambers. "Ourson! Passerose!" cried Agnella. "Ourson! Ourson!" exclaimed Violette. Passerose sprang half clothed into the parlor. "We are lost, madam! The flames are all through the house. The doors and windows are firmly closed--it is impossible to open them." "My son! my son!" cried Agnella. "My brother! my brother!" exclaimed Violette. They ran to the doors; all their efforts to open them or the windows were ineffectual. "Oh! my terrible dream!" murmured Violette. "Dear Ourson, adieu for ever!" Ourson had also been awakened by the flames and smoke. He slept out of the farm-house, and near the stable. His first impulse was to run to the front of the house but notwithstanding his extraordinary strength he could not open it. One would have thought that the door would break to pieces under his efforts. It was evidently held fast by the fairy Furious.