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192 hard, the sting pierced it, and made her cry out. To see her roll and lay about her upon the grass, one would have thought her a bull, or a young lion, tormented by a swarm of insects; for this one was worth a hundred. The Prince Orange-tree was dying with fear that she would be caught and killed. At last, Tourmentine, covered with blood, made off; and the Princess was about to resume her own form, when, unluckily, some travellers passing through the wood, having perceived the ivory wand, which was a very pretty-looking thing, picked it up, and carried it away. Nothing could be much more unfortunate than this. The Prince and Princess had not lost their speech, but of how little use was it to them in their present condition! The Prince, overwhelmed with grief, uttered lamentations that greatly added to his dear Aimée's distress. He would sometimes thus express himself:—

"How wretched am I," continued he, "thus pent up within the bark of a tree. Here I am, an Orange-tree, without any power to move. "What will become of me, if you abandon me, my dear little Bee?" "But," added he, "why will you go so far from me? You will find a most agreeable dew on my flowers, and drops in them sweeter than honey: you will be able to live on it. My leaves invite you to couch in them; there you will have nothing to fear from the malice of spiders!" As soon as the Orange-tree ceased its complaints, the Bee replied to him thus—

She added to that—"Do not fear that I will ever leave you. Neither the lilies, nor the jasmines, nor the roses, nor all the flowers of the most beautiful gardens, would induce me to commit so much infidelity. You shall see me continually flying around you, and you will know that the Orange-tree is not less dear to the Bee than Prince Aimé was to the