But when it comes to love--and if love were proclaimed and universally recognised as humdrum, there would never be a tale, fairy or otherwise, ever told again in the world worth the hearing--we have quite a different condition of affairs.
Did you ever hear of an ogre sighing himself to a shadow for love of a gap-toothed ogress?
No.

He goes out into the fairy world, and, sending his ogress-wife to Jericho, becomes desperately enamoured of the elfin princess.

There he is, great, ruddy, hairy wretch: there she is, a wraith of a creature made up of thistledown and fountain-bubbles and stars.

He stares at her, stretches out his huge paw to grab a fairy, feathery tress of her dark hair.

Defensive, she puts up her little hand.
Its touch is an electric shock to the marauder.