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300 holds you a prisoner. Do not reject the aid of the most faithful of lovers!" He flung himself at her feet and caught the skirt of her gown to detain her: but in so doing he unfortunately let fall the formidable sword. The Yellow Dwarf, who had lain hidden beneath the leaves of a lettuce, no sooner saw it out of the King's hands than, being aware of its power, he sprang upon and seized it.

The Princess uttered a terrible shriek at the sight of the Dwarf; but her anguish only exasperated the little monster: with two cabalistic words he conjured up two giants, who loaded the King with chains and fetters. "Now," said the Dwarf, "I am master of my rival's fate; but I will spare his life, and give him liberty to leave this place, provided you consent to marry me immediately." "Oh, let me rather die a thousand deaths!" exclaimed the amorous King. "You die!—alas, my Lord!" said the Princess, "what can be more terrible to me than such a calamity!" "Your becoming the victim of this monster," replied the King; "can any horror exceed that?" "Let us die together then," continued she. "Nay, Princess," rejoined the King, "grant me the consolation of dying for you." "Sooner than that," said the Princess to the Dwarf, "I consent to your wishes." "Before my eyes!" exclaimed the King; "before my eyes, will you make him your husband?—Cruel Princess,—life will be hateful to me!" "No," said the Yellow Dwarf. "You shall not see me become her husband:—a beloved rival is too dangerous to be endured!"

With these words, despite the tears and shrieks of Toute-belle, he stabbed the King to the heart, and laid him dead at his feet. The Princess, unable to survive her lover, fell upon his body, and her spirit quickly fled to join his. Thus perished this illustrious but unfortunate pair, without the possibility of assistance from the Syren; for the power of the spell was centred in the diamond sword.

The wicked Dwarf preferred seeing the Princess dead to beholding her in the arms of another, and the Fairy of the Desert becoming informed of this event, destroyed the mausoleum she had erected, conceiving as much hatred of the memory of the King of the Gold Mines as she had formerly entertained passion for his person.

The friendly Syren, overwhelmed with grief at so great