To undeceive her, he brought people from far and near; every man declared that Jacinta was created to delight the eyes; even the women said as much, though they were less enthusiastic.  But the poor child persisted in her conviction that she was a repulsive object, and when Valentin pressed her to name their wedding-day—­“I, your wife!” cried she.  “Never!  I love you too dearly to burden you with a being so hideous as I am.”  You can fancy the despair of the poor fellow so sincerely in love.  He threw himself on his knees; he prayed; he supplicated; she answered still that she was too ugly to marry him.

What was he to do?  The only way to give the lie to the old woman and prove the truth to Jacinta was to put a mirror before her.  But there was no such thing in the kingdom, and so great was the terror inspired by the queen that no workman dared make one.

“Well, I shall go to Court,” said the lover, in despair.  “Harsh as our mistress is, she cannot fail to be moved by the tears and the beauty of Jacinta.  She will retract, for a few hours at least, this cruel edict which has caused our trouble.”

It was not without difficulty that he persuaded the young girl to let him take her to the palace.  She did not like to show herself, and asked of what use would be a mirror, only to impress her more deeply with her misfortune; but when he wept, her heart was moved, and she consented, to please him.

* * * * *

“What is all this?” said the wicked queen.  “Who are these people? and what do they want?”

“Your Majesty, you have before you the most unfortunate lover on the face of the earth.”

“Do you consider that a good reason for coming here to annoy me?”

“Have pity on me.”

“What have I to do with your love affairs?”

“If you would permit a mirror——­”

The queen rose to her feet, trembling with rage.  “Who dares to speak to me of a mirror?” she said, grinding her teeth.

“Do not be angry, your Majesty, I beg of you, and deign to hear me.  This young girl whom you see before you, so fresh and pretty, is the victim of a strange delusion.  She imagines that she is ugly.”

“Well,” said the queen, with a malicious grin, “she is right.  I never saw a more hideous object.”

Jacinta, at these cruel words, thought she would die of mortification.  Doubt was no longer possible, she must be ugly.  Her eyes closed, she fell on the steps of the throne in a deadly swoon.

But Valentin was affected very differently.  He cried out loudly that her Majesty must be mad to tell such a lie.  He had no time to say more.  The guards seized him, and at a sign from the queen the headsman came forward.  He was always beside the throne, for she might need his services at any moment.

“Do your duty,” said the queen, pointing out the man who had insulted her.  The executioner raised his gleaming axe just as Jacinta came to herself and opened her eyes.  Then two shrieks pierced the air.  One was a cry of joy, for in the glittering steel Jacinta saw herself, so charmingly pretty—­and the other a scream of anguish, as the wicked soul of the queen took flight, unable to bear the sight of her face in the impromptu mirror.