akened her from her profound slumber. She looked about her, called her
nurse but finding herself alone in the woods, began to weep bitterly.

Ourson was much affected at her tears and his embarrassment was very
great.

"If I show myself," said he to himself, "this poor little one will take
me for some wild beast of the forest. If she sees me she will be
terrified; she will take to flight and wander still further from her
home. If I leave her here, she will die of terror and hunger. What shall
I do!"

Whilst Ourson reflected thus, the little girl turned around, saw him,
uttered a cry of alarm, tried to flee and fell back in a panic.

"Do not fly from me, dear little one," said Ourson, in his sad, soft
voice; "I would not injure you for the whole world; on the contrary, I
will assist you to find your father and mother."

The child gazed at him with staring eyes and seemed much alarmed.

"Speak to me, little one," said Ourson; "I am not a bear, as you might
suppose, but a poor and most unfortunate little boy, who inspires every
one with terror and whom everybody avoids."

The sweet child's eyes became calmer and softer, her fear seemed melting
away and she looked undecided.

Ourson took one step towards her but she became greatly frightened,
uttered a sharp cry and tried again to rise and run off. Ourson paused
and began to weep bitterly.

"Unfortunate wretch that I am," he said; "I cannot even assist this poor
lost child. My appearance fills her with terror! She would rather be
lost than have help from me!"

So saying, poor Ourson covered his face with his hands and sobbing
piteously threw himself on the ground. A few moments afterwards he felt
a little hand seeking to take possession of his own. He raised his head
and saw the child standing before him, her eyes filled with tears. She
caressed and patted the hairy cheeks of poor Ourson.

"Don't cry, little cub, don't cry," said she. "Violette is no longer
afraid, she will not run away again. Violette will love poor little cub.
Won't little cub give his hand to Violette? And if you cry again,
Violette will embrace you, poor little cub."

Tears of happiness and tenderness succeeded those of despair in Ourson.
Violette, seeing that he was again weeping, approached her soft rosy
lips to Ourson's hairy cheek and gave him several kisses.

"You see, little cub, that Violette is no longer afraid. Violette kisses
you! The little cub won't eat Violette--she will foll