Children's stories, French -- Translations into English; Fairy tales; Fairy tales -- France
There came at length a day, after the queen had lived for six years in
this dismal region, when the Witch told her that she could go hunting
with her, on condition that she yielded up everything which she killed.
The queen's joy when she once more saw the sun may be imagined; though
at first she thought she would be blinded, so unaccustomed to its light
had she become. So quick and lively was Moufette, even at five or six
years of age, that she never failed in her aim, and mother and daughter
together were thus able to appease somewhat the fierce instincts of the
Witch.
Meanwhile the Frog was travelling over hills and valleys. Day or night,
she never stopped, and at last she came nigh to the capital, where the
king was now in residence. To her astonishment signs of festivity met
her eye at every turn; on all sides there was merriment, song and
dancing, and the nearer she came to the city the more festive seemed the
mood of the people. All flocked with amazement to see her rustic
retinue, and by the time she reached the city the crowd had become so
large that it was with difficulty she made her way to the palace.
[Illustration: '_The journey lasted seven years_']
At the palace all was splendour, for the king, who had been deprived
of his wife's society for nine years, had at last yielded to the
petitions of his subjects, and was about to wed a princess who possessed
many amiable qualities, though she lacked, admittedly, the beauty of his
wife.
The good Frog descended from her sedan-chair, and with her attendants in
her train entered the royal presence. To request an audience was
unnecessary, for the king and his intended bride and all the princes
were much too curious to learn why she had come to think of interrupting
her.
'Sire,' said the Frog, 'I am in doubt whether the news I bring will
cause you joy or sorrow. I can only conclude, from the marriage which
you are proposing to celebrate, that you are no longer faithful to your
queen.'
Tears fell from the king's eyes. 'Her memory is as dear to me as ever,'
he declared; 'but you must know, good Frog, that monarchs cannot always
follow their own wishes. For nine years now my subjects have been urging
me to take a wife, and indeed it is due to them that there should be an
heir to the throne. Hence my choice of this young princess, whose charms
are apparent.'
'I warn you not to marry her,' rejoined the Frog; 'the queen is not
dead, and I am the bearer of a letter from her, writ in her own blood.
There has been born to you a little daughter, Moufette, who is more
beautiful than the very heavens.'
The king took the rag on which the short message from the queen was
written. He kissed it and moistened it with his tears; and declared,
holding it up for all to see, that he recognised the handwriting of his
wife. Then he plied the Frog with endless questions, to all of which she
replied with lively intelligence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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