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Accordingly, as the young princesses grew up, their perfections grew
with them; and nothing was spoken of but the beauty of the elder and
the wit of the younger. True, their faults increased equally: the one
became uglier, and the other more stupid, day by day. Unlucky fair
one! she never had a word to say for herself, or else it was the
silliest word imaginable, and she was so awkward that she could not
place four teacups in a row without breaking at least one of them, nor
drink a glass of water without spilling half of it over her clothes.
Beauty is a great charm; yet, whenever the sisters went out together,
those who were attracted by the elder's lovely face, in less than half
an hour were sure to be seen at the side of the younger, laughing at
her witty and pleasant sayings, and altogether deserting the poor
beauty, who had just sense enough to find it out, and to feel that she
would have given all her good looks for one half of her sister's
talents.
One day, when she had hid herself in a wood, and was crying over her
hard fate, she saw coming towards her a little man, very ugly, but
magnificently dressed. Who should this be but Prince Riquet with the
Tuft? He had seen her portrait, had fallen desperately in love with
her, and secretly quitted his father's kingdom that he might have the
pleasure of meeting her. Delighted to find her alone, he came forward
with all the respect and politeness imaginable.
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