"Find me, by to-morrow, something absolutely impossible for her to
do."
The fairy brought a great basket full of feathers, plucked from every
kind of bird--nightingales, canaries, linnets, larks, doves, thrushes,
peacocks, ostriches, pheasants, partridges, magpies, eagles--in fact,
if I told them all over, I should never come to an end; and all these
feathers were so mixed up together, that they could not be
distinguished.
"See," said the fairy, "even one of ourselves would find it difficult
to separate these, and arrange them as belonging to each sort of bird.
Command your prisoner to do it; she is sure to fail."
Grognon jumped for joy, sent for the princess, and ordered her to take
her task, and finish it, as before, by set of sun.
Graciosa tried patiently, but she could see no difference in the
feathers; she threw them all back again into the basket, and began to
weep bitterly. "Let me die," said she, "for death only will end my
sorrows. Percinet loves me no longer; if he did, he would already have
been here."
"Here I am, my princess," cried a voice from under the basket; and the
fairy-prince appeared. He gave three taps with his wand--the feathers
flew by millions out of the basket, and arranged themselves in little
heaps, each belonging to a different bird.
"What do I not owe you?" cried Graciosa.
"Love me!" answered the prince, tenderly, and said no more.
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