of your youth, your most
beautiful possession," replied the Queen. "Yet it is well. I too--how
long ago it seems!--was a child, and my imagination outstripped even the
flight of the eagle. It could dare the risk unpunished. Now----Whoever
has reached mature life is wise to let these wings remain idle. The
mortal who ventures to use them may easily approach too near the sun,
and, like Icarus, the wax will melt from his pinions. Let me tell you
this: To the child the gift of imagination is nourishing bread. In later
years we need it only as salt, as spice, as stimulating wine. Doubtless
it points out many paths, and shows us their end; but, of a hundred
rambles to which it summons him, scarcely one pleases the mature man. No
troublesome parasite is more persistently and sharply rebuffed. Who
can blame the ill-treated friend if it is less ready to serve us as the
years go on? The wise man will keep his ears ever open, but rarely lend
it his active hand. To banish it from life is to deprive the plant of
blossoms, the rose of its fragrance, the sky of its stars."

"I have often said the same things to myself, though in a less clear
and beautiful form, when life has been darkened," replied Barine, with
a faint blush; for she felt that these words were doubtless intended
to warn her against cherishing too aspiring wishes. "But, your Majesty,
here also the gods place you, the great Queen, far above us. We should
often find existence bare indeed but for the fancy which endows us with
imaginary possessions. You have the power to secure a thousand things
which to us common mortals only the gift of imagination pictures as
attainable."

"You believe that happiness is like wealth, and that the happiest person
is the one who receives the largest number of the gifts of fortune,"
answered the Queen. "The contrary, I think, can be easily proved. The
maxim that the more we have the less we need desire, is also false,
though in this world there are only a certain number of desirable
things. He who already possesses one of ten solidi which are to be
divided, ought really to desire only nine, and therefore would be poorer
by a wish than another who has none. True, it cannot be denied that the
gods have burdened or endowed me with a greater number of perishable
gifts than you and many others. You seem to set a high value upon them.
Doubtless there may be one or another which you could appropriate only
by the aid of the imagination. May I as