“No, no, my little Grabugeon,” replied Miranda, “I cannot bear the thought of taking your life.” “Such a good little dog as I am,” cried Tintin, “could not think of letting either of you die for his mistress. If anyone is to die for her it must be me.” And then began a great dispute between Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin, and they came to high words, until at last Grabugeon, who was quicker than the others, ran up to the very top of the nearest tree, and let herself fall, head first, to the ground, and there she lay--quite dead! The Princess was very sorry, but as Grabugeon was really dead, she allowed the Captain of the Guard to take her tongue; but, alas! it was such a little one--not bigger than the Princess’s thumb--that they decided sorrowfully that it was of no use at all: the King would not have been taken in by it for a moment! “Alas! my little monkey,” cried the Princess, “I have lost you, and yet I am no better off than I was before.” “The honor of saving your life is to be mine,” interrupted Patypata, and, before they could prevent her, she had picked up a knife and cut her head off in an instant. But when the Captain of the Guard would have taken her tongue it turned out to be quite black, so that would not have deceived the King either. “Am I not unlucky?” cried the poor Princess; “I lose everything I love, and am none the better for it.” “If you had accepted my offer,” said Tintin, “you would only have had me to regret, and I should have had all your gratitude.” Miranda kissed her little dog, crying so bitterly, that at last she could bear it no longer, and turned away into the forest. When she looked back the Captain of the Guard was gone, and she was alone, except for Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin, who lay upon the ground. She could not leave the place until she had buried them in a pretty little mossy grave at the foot of a tree, and she wrote their names upon the bark of the tree, and how they had all died to save her life. And then she began to think where she could go for safety--for this forest was so close to her father’s castle that she might be seen and recognized by the first passer-by, and, besides that, it was full of lions and wolves, who would have snapped up a princess just as soon as a stray chicken. So she began to walk as fast as she could, but the forest was so large and the sun was so hot that she nearly died of heat and terror and fatigue; look which way she would there seemed to be no end to the forest, and she was so frightened that she fancied every minute that she heard the King running after her to kill her. You may imagine how miserable she was, and how she cried as she went on, not knowing which path to follow, and with the thorny bushes scratching her dreadfully and tearing her pretty frock to pieces. At last she heard the bleating of a sheep, and said to herself: