"
"Then I beg you, Master Simon, to accept from my daughter, as a
remembrance, this likeness of her father, and to drink to our good
health," said the queen, laying at the same time a louis-d'or in the
hand of her daughter, and hastily whispering to her, "Give it to
him."
The princess hastened to execute the command of her mother, and laid
the glistening gold piece in the large, dirty hand which was
extended to her. But when she wanted to draw back her delicate
little hand, the large, bony fingers of the cobbler closed upon it
and held it fast.
"What a little hand it is!" he said, with a deriding laugh; "I
wonder what would become of these fingers if they had to work!"
"Mamma," cried the princess, anxiously, "order the man to let me go;
he hurts me."
The cobbler laughed on, but dropped the hand of the princess.
"Ah," cried he, scornfully, "it hurts a princess only to touch the
hand of a working man. It would be a great deal better to keep
entirely away from the working people, and never to come among us."
"Drive forward quickly!" cried the queen to the coachman, with loud,
commanding voice.
He urged on the horses, and the people who had hemmed in the
carriage closely, and listened breathlessly to the conversation of
the queen with the cobbler Simon, shrank timidly back before the
prancing steeds.
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