very much bored with his own company, he ordered some of
the spirits of the air to carry him to the court of a neighbouring
sovereign. This kingdom was situated in the Island of Roses, where the
climate is so delicious that the grass is always green and the flowers
always sweet. The waves, instead of beating on the rocks, seemed to die
gently on the shore; clusters of golden bushes covered the land, and the
vines were bent low with grapes.

The King of this island had a daughter named Rosalie, who was more
lovely than any girl in the whole world. No sooner had the eyes of the
Prince of the Air rested on her than he forgot all the terrible woes
which had been prophesied to him ever since he was born, for in one
single moment the plans of years are often upset. He instantly began to
think how best to make himself happy, and the shortest way that occurred
to him was to have Rosalie carried off by his attendant spirits.

It is easy to imagine the feelings of the King when he found that his
daughter had vanished. He wept her loss night and day, and his only
comfort was to talk over it with a young and unknown prince, who had
just arrived at the Court. Alas! he did not know what a deep interest
the stranger had in Rosalie, for he too had seen her, and had fallen a
victim to her charms.

One day the King, more sorrowful than usual, was walking sadly along
the sea-shore, when after a long silence the unknown Prince, who was his
only companion, suddenly spoke. 'There is no evil without a remedy,' he
said to the unhappy father; 'and if you will promise me your daughter in
marriage, I will undertake to bring her back to you.'

'You are trying to soothe me by vain promises,' answered the King. 'Did
I not see her caught up into the air, in spite of cries which would have
softened the heart of any one but the barbarian who has robbed me of
her? The unfortunate girl is pining away in some unknown land, where
perhaps no foot of man has ever trod, and I shall see her no more. But
go, generous stranger; bring back Rosalie if you can, and live happy
with her ever after in this country, of which I now declare you heir.'

Although the stranger's name and rank were unknown to Rosalie's father,
he was really the son of the King of the Golden Isle, which had for
capital a city that extended from one sea to another. The walls, washed
by the quiet waters, were covered with gold, which made one think of the
yellow sands. Above them was a ram