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The merchant was so taken up with grief at losing his daughter, that he quite forgot about the trunk which he had filled with gold pieces, but, to his astonishment, he had no sooner shut himself into his room for the night, than he found it beside his bed. He resolved not to tell his children of his newly-obtained riches, for he knew that his daughters would then wish to return to the town, and he had made up his mind to die where he was in the country. He confided his secret, however, to Beauty, who told him that there had been visitors at the house during his absence, among them two who were in love with her sisters. She begged her father to marry them; for she was so good of heart, that she loved them and freely forgave them all the unkindness they had shown her.,

At that moment, the enchantment being ended, the Princess awoke, and gazing at him for the first time with unexpected tenderness, "Is it you, Prince?" she said; "I have waited long for you to come." The Prince, delighted at these words, and still more by the tone in which they were uttered, knew not how to express his joy and gratitude. He assured her that he loved her better than himself. His words were rather confused, but she was all the more pleased with them; there was little eloquence, but a great deal of love. He was much more embarrassed than she was, which is not to be wondered at. She had had time to think over what she should say to him, for there is reason to believe, although history does not mention it, that during her long, long sleep, the good fairy had let her enjoy very pleasant dreams. In short, they talked for four hours without having said half what they had to say to each other.,

“Oh, because—because you only got eight apples, and Mother said”—,

“Reflection from the fire box of an engine on the smoke that passes over. The reason it comes in flashes is that it only shows when the fireman opens the door to pitch on another scoop of coal. Yes, there it is again!” They plodded on, much encouraged.

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CHAPTER II,

His captors began talking about the situation at the Mexican border and Bob drank in every word they said. It was just now that he began to realize what depth of feeling there was about the way the situation was being handled and to what lengths the ranchers and cattlemen would go to force the United States to make war on the other country. Wesley and Harper undoubtedly were “bad men,” but Bob was convinced by their talk that they had started on this particular piece of villainy for reasons which they thought were right. Probably when the thing began, they never planned anything worse than a strike among the Mexicans in order to delay for a year or two longer the flooding of the rangeland. Then had come the chance to induce the Mexicans to commit worse crimes in order to strengthen the feeling against Mexico and thus bring on war. Holman, the boss of these men and Bob’s host, had said that he wanted to move his stock to his ranch in Mexico when the dam was finished—but it would be foolish to do that while the country was still so unsettled. Presumably, there were a lot of men in the same fix as Holman, and these, naturally, wanted the United States to step in and make the unsettled country peaceful.,

“That must be it,” he said. “Look, Jerry!”,

Having taken what provision the marquis had brought, they quitted the cell, and entered upon the dark passage, along which they passed with cautious steps. Julia came first to the door of the cavern, but who can paint her distress when she found it was fastened! All her efforts to open it were ineffectual.—The door which had closed after her, was held by a spring lock, and could be opened on this side only with a key. When she understood this circumstance, the marchioness, with a placid resignation which seemed to exalt her above humanity, addressed herself again to heaven, and turned back to her cell. Here Julia indulged without reserve, and without scruple, the excess of her grief. The marchioness wept over her. 'Not for myself,' said she, 'do I grieve. I have too long been inured to misfortune to sink under its pressure. This disappointment is intrinsically, perhaps, little—for I had no certain refuge from calamity—and had it even been otherwise, a few years only of suffering would have been spared me. It is for you, Julia, who so much lament my fate; and who in being thus delivered to the power of your father, are sacrificed to the Duke de Luovo—that my heart swells.'