It grew and grew, and now new
buds and leaves and blossoms appeared; and when at last it left the
velvet chair and climbed out of the casement again, it was a glorious
plant, such as had never before been seen. All the passers-by stopped to
look at it and admire it. Little children reached up to pluck the
glowing blossoms, and sick and weary people gained strength and courage
from breathing their delicious perfume. The world was better and happier
for the rose, and the rose knew it, and was glad.
But when the princess awoke, she took up her golden mirror again, and
looking in it, saw a pale and wrinkled and gray-haired woman looking at
her. Then she shrieked, and flung the mirror on the ground, and rushed
out of her palace into the wide world. And wherever she went she cried,
"I am the beautiful princess! Look at me and see my beauty; for I will
show it to you now!" But nobody looked at her, for she was withered and
ugly; and nobody cared for her, because she was selfish and vain. So she
made no more difference in the world than she had made before. But the
rose is blossoming still, and fills the air with its sweetness.
* * * * *
"My Pink," said Hildegarde, tenderly, as she walked beside her friend's
chair on their homeward way, "you are shut up like the princess; but
instead of the rose stealing your sweetness, you have stolen the
sweetness of all the roses, and taken it into your prison with you.
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