What
she might have done, or rather tried to do, had not Peggy's tail
struck her down with such force that for a moment she could not
rise, I cannot tell.
But while she lay half-stunned, her eyes fell on a little flower
just under them. It stared up in her face like the living thing it
was, and she could not take her eyes off its face. It was like a
primrose trying to express doubt instead of confidence. It seemed to
put her half in mind of something, and she felt as if shame were
coming. She put out her hand to pluck it; but the moment her fingers
touched it, the flower withered up, and hung as dead on its stalks
as if a flame of fire had passed over it.
Then a shudder thrilled through the heart of the princess, and she
thought with herself, saying--"What sort of a creature am I that the
flowers wither when I touch them, and the ponies despise me with
their tails? What a wretched, coarse, ill-bred creature I must be!
There is that lovely child giving life instead of death to the
flowers, and a moment ago I was hating her! I am made horrid, and I
shall be horrid, and I hate myself, and yet I can't help being
myself!"
She heard the sound of galloping feet, and there was the pony, with
the child seated betwixt his wings, coming straight on at full speed
for where she lay.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153