ow you!"

If Ourson had followed the dictates of his heart, he would have pressed
her to his bosom and covered with kisses the good and charming child who
overcame her natural terror in order to assuage the grief and
mortification of a poor being whom she saw unfortunate and miserable.
But he feared to arouse her terrors.

"She would think that I was about to devour her," he said.

He contented himself, therefore, with clasping her hands softly, and
kissing them delicately. Violette permitted this smilingly.

"Now little cub is satisfied. Little cub will love Violette, poor
Violette, who is lost!"

Ourson understood well that her name was Violette; but he could not
comprehend how this little girl, so richly clad, was left alone in the
forest.

"Where do you live, my dear little Violette?"

"Yonder--yonder--with papa and mamma."

"What is the name of your papa?"

"He is the king and dear mamma is the queen."

Ourson was more and more surprised and asked:

"Why are you alone in this forest?"

"Violette doesn't know. Poor Violette rode on a big dog--he ran, oh! so
fast--so fast, a long time! Violette was so tired, she fell down and
slept!"

"And the dog, where is he?"

Violet turned in every direction and called softly:

"Ami! Ami!"

No dog appeared.

"Alas! Ami has gone! Poor Violette is alone--alone!"

Ourson took Violette's hand and she did not withdraw it but smiled
sweetly.

"Shall I go and seek mamma, Violette?"

"No, no! Violette cannot stay all alone in this wood. Violette will
go."

"Come, then, with me, dear little girl. I will take you to my mother."

Ourson and Violette now turned their steps towards the farm. Ourson
gathered strawberries and cherries for Violette, who would not touch
them till Ourson had eaten half. When she found that he still held his
half in his hand, she took them, and placed them herself in his mouth,
saying:

"Eat--eat, little cub. Violette will not eat unless you eat. Violette
cannot have little cub unhappy. Violette will not see you weep."

She looked at him to see if he was content and happy. Ourson was really
happy. He saw that his good and pretty little companion not only
tolerated him but was interested in him and sought to make herself
agreeable. His eyes were sparkling with joy, his voice, always soft and
sad, was now tender. After half an hour's walk, he said to her:

"Violette, you are no longer afraid of poor Ourson, are you?"

"Oh! no, no,