You know, my children, that violets are the emblem of modesty. Because they grow in dark wood, in the shade of other plants; and even they hide their delicate face behind their large green leaves, as do young shy girls behind their hand fan.
One day, a poet walked in a forest where there were lots of violets perfuming the air deliciously.
Drunk by their perfume, he wrote verses in honor of the humble flower of the woods, and he recited them aloud.
At his feet, a violet heard. She thought he spoke to her alone, and by knowing that she is sung by a poet, it made her forget all modesty.
She stretched her neck behind its leaves, vainly turned his head left and right, and looks complacently to a big drop of dew which was still hanging on a blade of grass.
“Ah!” she said, “I’m pretty and I feel good! I must be prettier than the other flowers, and my perfume to be better than all the other perfumes of the forest, since it is only me that the poet writes poetry.“
But at that moment passed the old fairy of wood that is the supervisor of the flowers.
With her wand, she slapped the violet cheek.
“Little impudent!” she said, “tuck under your leaves, and to punish you for your vanity, I remove your perfume.“
Violet was sorry. She cried so much that a young fairy, who had a walk on that side, took pity on her.
“Poor little“, she said, “I can not give you your perfume; but, since you have so much sorrow, I will make from yopur tears clearer petals, purple petals; and at least, if you are not fragrant, you’ll be prettier.“
And having said that, the fairy changed the wood violet in violet of Parma.
And that is why the Parma violets have no perfume.