her both arms and invoked the
fairy Drolette. When they reached the bottom, he gave one vigorous
stroke with his heel which brought him again to the surface. Holding
Violette securely with one arm, he swam sturdily with the other and
through some supernatural force he reached the shore where he deposited
the unconscious Violette.

Her eyes were closed, her teeth tightly clenched and the pallor of death
was on her face. Ourson threw himself on his knees by her side weeping
bitterly. Brave Ourson, whom no dangers could intimidate, no privation,
no suffering could master, now wept like a child. His sweet sister, so
well beloved! his only friend, his consolation, his happiness was lying
there motionless, lifeless! Ourson's strength and courage had deserted
him and he sank down without consciousness by the side of his beloved
Violette.

At this moment a lark flew rapidly up, approached Violette and Ourson,
gave one stroke of her little beak to Ourson and another to Violette and
disappeared.

Ourson was not the only one who replied to the shrieks of Violette.
Passerose had heard them and then the more terrible cry of Ourson which
succeeded them. She ran to the house to apprise Agnella and they both
ran rapidly toward the stream from which the cries for help seemed to
come.

On approaching, they saw with surprise and alarm that Violette and
Ourson were lying on the ground in a state of unconsciousness. Passerose
placed her hand on Violette's heart and felt it still beating. Agnella
ascertained at the same moment that Ourson was still living. She
directed Passerose to take Violette home, undress her and put her to bed
while she endeavored to restore consciousness to Ourson with salts and
other restoratives before conducting him to the farm. Ourson was too
tall and heavy to be carried while Violette, on the contrary, was light
and it was easy for Passerose to carry her to the house. When she
arrived there, she was soon restored to animation. It was some moments
before she was conscious. She was still agitated with a vague
remembrance of terror but without knowing what had alarmed her.

During this time the tender care of Agnella had restored Ourson to life.
He opened his eyes, gazed tenderly at his mother and threw himself
weeping upon her neck.

"Mother, dear mother!" he exclaimed, "my Violette, my beloved sister,
has perished! Let me die with her!"

"Be composed, my son," replied Agnella; "Violette still lives. Passer