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With the disappearance of the nymph, all the magic glory had

suffered a change; those bright bands, that charming network of

gold and silver, alas! was that all merely straw?

The Count, wringing his hands, gazed on a bunch of cornflowers

tied round with grasses, which he had taken for a tuft of ostrich

plumes in the maiden's hand. He did not forget the instrument:

that gilded vessel, that horn of Amalthea, was a carrot! He had

seen it being greedily consumed in the mouth of one of the

children. So good-bye to the spell, the enchantment, the marvel!

So a boy, when he sees chickory flowers enticing the hand with

soft, light, blue petals, wishes to stroke them and draws near-he

blows-and with the puff the whole flower flies away like down on

the wind, and in his hands the too curious inquirer sees only a

naked stalk of grey-green grass.