Four or five of the christenings were to take place
the next day, and the Fairies who were going were
discussing with each other what gifts they should
bestow, and as their only object was to ensure the
happiness of the children for whom they were interested,
they naturally fell into a discourse as to what gifts
were most likely to have so charming an effect.
“Your Godchild is a girl too, I believe,”
said Euphrosyne to Ianthe [Fairies are privileged,
you know, to have romantic names] “what do you
think of bestowing upon her?” “Why,”
answered Ianthe, “the old story, I suppose—beauty:
at least such was my intention, but if you can any
of you show me I am wrong in supposing it a cause
of happiness to the mortal race, why, I suppose I
must give her ugliness instead.”
“Sister, I hope you will do no such thing,”
murmured a young Fairy who lay near twining seaweeds
into a wreath. “I never until this evening
heard a doubt upon the subject, and to tell you the
truth the only time I ever envy a mortal is when I
see a regular beauty enter a large assembly.
Oh, the triumph of that moment! Every eye turned
upon her; murmurs of admiration, not unmixed with
envy, greeting her as she sweeps along; everyone courting
her acquaintance; a word, a smile of hers more valued
than a pearl or a ruby. A sort of queen of Nature’s
own making, reigning royally in undisputed sway, let
her circumstances of life be what they may! Look
how mean the richest woman who is ugly looks by the
side of her! No no, dear Ianthe, make your little
lady handsome, and you have done the best that Fairy
can do for her. I declare I envy her beforehand!
Here where we are all so beautiful together there
is no interest or excitement about it—it
is quite flat.” And so saying the young
fairy Leila laid herself down to her wreath again.
“Why, Leila, you are absolutely eloquent!”
observed Ianthe, “Beauty it certainly must be.”
“Oh, I declare,” pursued Ianthe, rousing
up again, “I have sometimes really wished myself
ugly, that I might some day have the pleasure of suddenly
finding myself beautiful!”
“Oh, but then,” said a Fairy from behind,
“is there no danger of your regular beauty,
as you call her, getting as tired of being beautiful
as you are, and wishing herself ugly too?”
“Certainly, not,” answered Ianthe, “for,
for an earthly beauty there would always be the excitement
of being envied.”
“Come, come,” persisted the former speaker,
“then the gift of being envied would be the
best thing to bestow, at all events a necessary addition.”
“Oh,” cried Leila, stopping her ears,
“I can’t argue, I never could—I
can’t hear any more, I am quite satisfied that
I am right; you can’t argue away the pleasure
of being a beauty in a ball-room. Ask any of
them themselves.”
“Well,” said Ianthe, “we need pursue
the subject no further. I am resolved. My
baby is to be beautiful, beautiful as the dawn of the
morning; they shall call her Aurora!”
