He went on without having recognized the fairies, the mistresses of men’s destinies, and a little farther on he met three old beggar women, who were walking bowed low over their sticks; their faces were like three apples roasted in the cinders. From their rags protruded bones which had more dirt than flesh upon them. Their naked feet ended in fleshless toes of immoderate length, like the bones of an ox-tail. As soon as they saw him approaching they smiled upon him and threw him kisses; they stopped him on his way, calling him their darling, their love, their pet, and covered him with caresses which he was powerless to evade, for the moment he made a movement to escape, they dug into his flesh the sharp claws at the tips of their fingers. “Isn’t he handsome? Isn’t he lovely?” they sighed. For some time they raved on, begging him to love them. Then, seeing they could not rouse his senses, which were frozen with horror, they covered him with abuse, hammered him with their staves, threw him on the ground and trod him underfoot. Then, when he was crushed, broken, aching, and crippled in every limb, the youngest, who was at least eighty years of age, squatted upon him and treated him in a manner too infamous to describe. He was almost suffocated; immediately afterwards the other two, taking the place of the first, treated the unfortunate gentleman in the same way. Finally all three made off, saluting him with: “Good night, Endymion!” “To our next meeting, Adonis!” “Good-bye, beautiful Narcissus!” and left him swooning. When he came back to his senses, a toad near him was whistling deliciously like a flute, and a cloud of mosquitoes were dancing before the moon. He rose with great difficulty and limpingly pursued his journey. Once again Monsieur de Boulingrin had failed to recognize the fairies, mistresses of the destinies of men. The Duchess of Cicogne awaited him impatiently. “You come very late, my friend,” she said. He answered, as he kissed her fingers, that it was very kind of her to reproach him. His excuse was that he had been somewhat unwell. “Boulingrin,” she said, “sit down there.” And she confided to him that she would be very happy to accept from the royal treasury a present of two thousand crowns, as a fitting compensation for the unkindness of fate, faro having for the last six months been terribly against her. Informed that the matter was urgent, Boulingrin wrote immediately to Monsieur de La Rochecoupée to ask for the necessary sum of money. “La Rochecoupée will be delighted to obtain it for you,” he said. “He is a helpful person and takes pleasure in serving his friends. I may add that in him one perceives greater talents than are commonly seen in the favourites of Princes. He has taste, and a head for business; but he is lacking in philosophy. He believes in fairies, relying on his senses----” “Boulingrin,” said the Duchess, “you stink like a tom-cat.” CHAPTER IV