{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_14628/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_14628","id":"gutenberg_14628","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14628","summary":null,"tags":["Category: French Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Romance","Legends -- France"],"text":"_The Sweet and Touching Tale of_\n\nFLEUR & BLANCHEFLEUR\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n_The Sweet and Touching Tale of_\nFLEUR & BLANCHEFLEUR\n\nA Medi\u00e6val Legend Translated from\nthe French by Mrs. Leighton, with\nThirty-seven Coloured Illustrations by\nEleanor Fortescue Brickdale\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPUBLISHED IN LONDON BY\nDANIEL O'CONNOR, AT 90 GREAT\nRUSSELL STREET, W.C.1. 1922\n\n\n\n\n\n_The Sweet and Touching Tale of_\n\nFLEUR & BLANCHEFLEUR\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter I_\n\n\nIt is recorded by ancient chronicles that in the year of grace 624 a\ncertain heathen King of Spain, Fenis by name, whose Queen was also a\nheathen, crossed over the sea with a mighty host into Christendom, and\nthere, in the space of three days, made such havoc of the land, with\ndestruction of towns, churches, and cloisters, that for full thirty\nmiles from the shore where he had landed, not a human being or\nhabitation was left to show where happy homes had been. Moreover, this\nKing Fenis, while lading his ships with the booty thus ill-got, posted\nforty of his men in ambush over against the highway, there to lie in\nwait for any pilgrims who might pass by; and when presently a weary\npilgrim band was seen toiling down the steep slope of a mountain nigh at\nhand, the forty thieves rushed out upon the pilgrims and threatened them\nwith death, to escape which they readily parted with their goods; one\nonly of the band showed fight, and he was a Count of France, conducting\nhis daughter, a new-made widow, to the shrine of St. James at\nCompostella, where she had vowed to offer up prayer for her lord, lately\nslain in battle.\n\nBravely this Count fought, but all in vain, for, overborne by numbers,\nhe was killed, and his daughter carried a captive to the heathen King\nFenis, who, straightway taking ship, sailed back to Spain, and, when\nKing Fenis was come home again, he divided the spoil among his soldiery,\ngiving a portion to each man according to his rank; but the Christian\nlady he bestowed upon his Queen, who, long desirous of such an\nattendant, received her gladly into the royal apartments, suffering her\nto retain her Christian creed: in return for this kindness, the captive\nlady did good service, waiting faithfully both late and early on the\nQueen, and giving her instruction in the French tongue. Moreover, by her\ngentleness, wisdom, and discretion, this Christian captive won all\nhearts in the heathen court.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNow it happened that on Palm Sunday after these things the Queen gave\nbirth to a lovely boy, whom the learned heathen masters, because he was\nborn in the season of flowers, named Fleur; [more correctly 'Floire.']\nand on that same Palm Sunday the Christian captive lady bore a daughter,\nwhom with her own hands she baptized, giving her the name of\nBlanchefleur.\n\nAt the birth of his son, King Fenis rejoiced, and made great\nfestivities; also he commanded that the infant should be nursed by a\nheathen, but brought up by the Christian captive, who, thus being\ncharged with both children, tended them with such loving care that she\nscarce knew which was dearest to her, the King's son or her own\ndaughter. So tended, the two children grew to be the sweetest and\nloveliest ever seen, and such was the love that they bore each one to\nthe other that they could not endure to be parted.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter II_\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen some time had passed and King Fenis marked that the intelligence of\nhis son was now beginning to awake, he called the child to him and said:\n'Fleur, now must you go diligently to school and learn of the wise\nMaster Gaidon.' But for all answer to this command Fleur burst into\ntears, crying out:\n\n'Father! neither reading, writing, nor aught else will I learn, except I\nhave Blanchefleur to be my fellow scholar.' To this the king consented,\nso the two children with great joy went hand in hand to school, and\nthere by mutual aid and encouragement so quickly acquired the rudiments\nof learning that in no long time they were able to exchange love\nletters, which, being written in the Latin tongue, were not understood\nby the other scholars.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe tender love which, thus growing with their growth, knit the hearts\nof these two children together, began, however, to cause displeasure to\nthe King, who, fearing lest it should tend to thwart his plan of wedding\nhis son to a royal bride, determined to part the two, if by fair\nmeans--well! if not, then by Blanchefleur's death; but the Queen, in\ndread that her son might die of grief, pled with her lord to spare\nBlanchefleur, saying: 'Sir! rather command Master Gaidon, under pretext\nof failing health, to give up his charge. Thus shall occasion be made\nfor sending Fleur to school at Montorio, where my aunt is Duchess, and\namong the many high-born maidens there assembled, haply he may find\nanother love.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTo this plan the King consented, yet found not in it the help he hoped;\nfor, on hearing that he was to go to Montorio, leaving his Blanchefleur\nat home to tend her mother, who, like Master Gaidon, was commanded to\nfeign herself sick, Fleur became so frantic with grief that, to calm his\ntransports, the King and Queen were fain to promise that, in two weeks'\ntime, Blanchefleur should follow him to Montorio.\n\nSomewhat comforted by this promise, Fleur took a tender farewell of his\nlove, whom he fondly kissed and embraced in the presence of her mother\nand his own father.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nKing Fenis, though by no means best pleased with his son's deportment,\nyet sent him nobly equipped and provided to Montorio, where, on arrival,\nFleur was warmly welcomed by Duke Toras, the Duchess, and their daughter\nSibylla, and, when recovered from the fatigue of travel, was by Sibylla\nconducted to school, where many a fair and noble damsel was to be\nseen. All was in vain: no matter what of beauty or of loveliness might\nmeet his eye or strike his ear, the thoughts of Fleur were ever and only\nwith his Blanchefleur, for whose sake he heaved many a sigh and dropped\nmany a tear against the day appointed for her coming; and when it came\nand brought her not, because his parents trusted that she was now\nforgotten, Fleur drooped and pined; unable, from heaviness of heart, to\neat, drink, or sleep; and when his chamberlain saw that Fleur was sick\nhe hasted back to tell King Fenis, who, calling for his Queen, took\ncounsel with her on the matter. 'What remedy there be for Fleur I know\nnot,' said the King, 'but this thing I know full well, that Blanchefleur\nhas cast a spell upon him, and by enchantment has bound him so fast in\nlove to her that he can look on none other than herself; so go, fetch me\nBlanchefleur, that she may die and be forgotten.'\n\nOnce more did the Queen plead for Blanchefleur's life.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Sir,' said she, 'it is ill said that Blanchefleur has bewitched our\nchild, for she loves him with a love that passes words, and has known no\njoy since he departed, but sits alone in tears and sorrow, refusing to\neat.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThus did the Queen save Blanchefleur from a cruel death, and thus did\nshe further counsel her lord: 'Ah, sir!' said she, ''twere sin and shame\nto slay the child thus untried and unheard; better far, let her be taken\nto the harbour, and there sold away into distant lands and never be\nheard of more.'\n\nApproving the counsel of his Queen, King Fenis sent for two rich\nmerchants, and bade them take Blanchefleur and sell her to foreign\ntraders at the harbour of Nic\u00e6a, which they promised faithfully to do.\n\nWhen dismissed from the presence of the King and Queen, these two\nmerchants hastened to the port of Nic\u00e6a, and, out of the many foreign\ntraders who there bought and sold, chose two rich dealers from a distant\nland, who purchased Blanchefleur at a price that caused the vendors to\nrejoice, for these men gave 100 pounds of gold, 100 of silver, 100 webs\nof Indian silk, 100 scarlet mantles, 100 good horses, and 300 birds,\nsuch as falcons, hawks, and sparrow-hawks: last and greatest of all,\nthey gave a cup matchless in beauty and beyond all price. Vulcan had\nmade this cup, and on it he had pictured how Paris, son of Priam, king\nin Troy, had carried off Helena, and was pursued in wrath by Menelaus,\nHelena's lord, together with his brother Agamemnon, at the head of a\nmighty host; and how the Greeks besieged and stormed Troy town, which\nthe Trojans for their part defended, and when the city was taken, \u00c6neas\nbrought away the cup and gave it to a brother of his love Lavinia.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the purchase was completed, these traders led Blanchefleur away to\nBabylon, and offered her for sale to its Admiral, whom she pleased so\nwell that he bought her for ten times her weight in gold from these\nmerchants, who, well pleased with the price bestowed, departed after\nthanks given to the Admiral, who, judging from her great beauty and rich\nattire that his new purchase must come of noble race, resolved to break\nhis rule of oft-repeated marriage by plighting his troth once and for\nall to her and her alone. With this intent accordingly he sent\nBlanchefleur to the women's tower, appointing twenty-five maidens for\nher service and solace, seeing that she was ere long to be crowned Queen\nof Babylon.\n\nNo sooner, however, did Blanchefleur, a helpless stranger in a distant\nland, find herself in a chamber alone and undisturbed, than, giving way\nto tears and lamentations, she cried, 'Alas, Fleur! who has torn us\nasunder? Never shall I cease to love and mourn you, for well know I that\nyour heart is rent with the same pangs of love and grief, and that we\nboth must surely die, for without love who would consent to live?'\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter III_\n\n\nNow, leaving Blanchefleur thus bewailing herself at Babylon, let us\nreturn to King Fenis and his Queen. On receiving at the hands of the two\nmerchants the goodly treasure paid as Blanchefleur's price, King Fenis\nwas well pleased, but not so the Queen, who in trouble of spirit cried,\n'Now must we take good heed what we do, lest Fleur our son die of\ngrief.' King Fenis accordingly, after taking thought upon the matter,\ncaused a tomb of exceeding beauty to be made, of ivory, of marble, and\nof crystals, and in the tomb was set a coffin, and on the coffin were\nfigured in gold the images of two children in the likeness of Fleur and\nBlanchefleur; on the head of each child was a crown of gold, and in that\nof Fleur was set a carbuncle that sparkled bright by night as in the\nday. Moreover, long pipes were laid down, which, catching the wind as it\nblew, caused the children to fondle and embrace each other as though in\nsport and play, and when the wind ceased they stood still, each one\nproffering to the other the flowers it held, and all seemed natural as\nlife itself.\n\nNever had maiden a costlier tomb, for it was encrusted with precious\ngems, such as sapphires, chalcedonies, amethyst, topaz, turquoise,\njasper, chrysolite, diamond, and jacinth; also in letters of gold it\nbore this inscription:\n\n  _'Here lies Blanchefleur, who loved young Fleur\n  with tender love and true.'_\n\n[Illustration: Who loved young Fleur with tender love and true]\n\nWhen all things were now ready, King Fenis, bidding his people beware\nfor their lives of breathing a word to the effect that Blanchefleur,\nbeing yet alive, was not buried in this tomb, sent to Montorio, bidding\nhis son return home. Joyfully did Fleur, all unknowing what had passed,\nobey the summons, and when, after greeting and salutation offered to his\nparents, he asked for Blanchefleur, and no man dared to answer him, he\nran to her mother's chamber and asked where was Blanchefleur, whom he\nhad left there.\n\n'Fleur,' said the mother, 'I know not where she is.'\n\n'Mock me not,' cried he, 'but say where is she whom for these three long\nweeks I have not seen?'\n\nThen said the lady, 'Blanchefleur is dead and buried.'\n\nAt these words spoken Fleur fell stunned and senseless as though from a\nheavy blow, and the mother in her terror gave a cry, which, being heard\nthroughout the court, brought the King and Queen running in, to behold\nwith horror and dismay their child stretched lifeless on the ground.\n\nWhen at length Fleur came to himself, neither prayers nor threats\navailed to calm the violence of his grief, but when he begged to see his\nbeloved's tomb, the Queen his mother led him by the hand to the vault\nwhere she was supposed to lie; and, when Fleur read the golden letters\nthat told how Blanchefleur lay within the tomb, he thrice fell fainting\non it, and when at length his spirit came again, he cried, kneeling upon\nthe tomb, 'Alas, my Blanchefleur! why have you forsaken me? We who lived\nand loved, should we not have died together? Woe, woe is me thus left\nwithout my love; Oh, cruel Death, to take my dear away! Why tarry now?\ncome, take my life, or I myself will take it, and so pass to those\nbright fields of light where dwells the soul of Blanchefleur amid the\nflowers!'\n\nAfter this lament Fleur arose, and drawing a golden stilus from its\ncase, he said, 'This stilus, her parting gift, and all now left to me\nof Blanchefleur, shall be my comfort by taking me from a world in which\nwithout her I cannot bear to live.' So saying, Fleur would have stabbed\nhimself to the heart with the golden stilus, but the Queen his mother\ntore it from his hand, crying: 'What madness were it to lose your life\nfor love! Be well assured that never thus could you come to Blanchefleur\nin her flowery meads; rather would you be sent to dwell in eternal grief\nand pain with Pyramus and Thisbe, who for a like offence were condemned\nto seek forever the comfort that they shall never find in love: take\nheart, therefore, my child, for I have skill to call your Blanchefleur\nback to life.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAfter these words spoken to Fleur, the Queen, in sore trouble of spirit,\nsought her lord the King, and showing to him the golden stilus, said,\n'Sir, take pity on your child, for with this golden stilus he had done\nhimself to death but for my staying hand; and, sir, were he, our only\nchild, to die, bethink you how grievous would be our loss! Say then,\nsir, what think you were best to do?' To the entreaties of his Queen,\nKing Fenis thus made reply: 'Tell Fleur to be comforted, seeing that his\nBlanchefleur lives.'\n\nGlad at heart to be bearer of such a message, the Queen hasted to her\nson, and, taking him apart, she said to the sorrowing Fleur, 'Weep no\nmore, but know the truth; your love lies not in the tomb.'\n\nThen, opening the coffin and showing to him its emptiness, the Queen\ntold all to Fleur: how she and the King his father had sent him to\nMontorio, that there he might forget his Blanchefleur, a Christian and a\nslave, and choose in her stead a heathen bride of royal race, and how,\nfinding him still faithful, King Fenis could have slain Blanchefleur,\nbut, yielding to his Queen's entreaties, had spared her life and sold\nher for much gold into distant lands.\n\nThen, standing before that empty grave, Fleur rejoiced with exceeding\njoy, and vowed a vow that he would go forth and search through the wide\nworld till he found his love or died in the attempt.\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter IV_\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nWhen Fleur had thus learned all the truth, he left the empty tomb and\nsought his father, saying, 'Father, let me go forth into the wide world\nto seek my Blanchefleur, for till she is found I can know neither peace\nnor joy.' Hearing these words from his son, King Fenis was sorely\ntroubled, cursing in his heart the day on which he had sold\nBlanchefleur, whom now he would fain have bought back ten pounds dearer\nthan he sold her, did he but know where she was to be found.\n\n'Abide with me, O Fleur, my son!' pleaded the King, 'and I will wed you\nto a royal bride!'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Not so, my father!' Fleur replied; 'for there lives no woman upon earth\nthat I can love save Blanchefleur, and her alone; so be content to let\nme go!'\n\n'If needs must, then go,' said King Fenis, yielding to his son's desire,\n'and I will make provision of all things needful for your journey.'\n\n''Twere best,' said Fleur, 'for me to travel as a merchant; so give me,\nI pray you, twelve mules, three laden with skins, three with coin of the\nrealm, two with costly apparel of silk, velvet and scarlet, and the\nother four with furs. Give me also twelve muleteers to lead the mules,\nand twelve men-at-arms to be my guard; likewise one of your stewards,\nand a chamberlain of wisdom and discretion; last of all, send with me\nthe two merchants, who, having sold Blanchefleur into distant lands,\nwill best know how and where to seek her.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAt the thought and talk of parting the King wept sore, yet gave to his\nson according to his desire, adding thereto a palfrey, richly\ncaparisoned; and when Fleur, wearing golden spurs, was mounted on the\npalfrey and would be gone, his mother came to say farewell, and gave him\nas her parting gift a ring, which she bade him ever wear, for the fair\ngem set in this golden ring had magic power to ward off hurt from foe,\nor fire, or water, or of wild beasts, nor while he wore it could any man\nrefuse him aught he asked: so Fleur, with heartfelt thanks to his mother\nfor so great a gift, put the ring upon his ringer. Then came good-bye,\nsaid with sorrow sore and deep on either side, more especially by\nfather and mother, who with sinking hearts thrice kissed their son, well\nknowing that they should see his face no more.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThus provided and equipped with loving care did Fleur ride forth into\nthe wide world in quest of Blanchefleur, steadfastly purposing to find\nher or perish in the quest; and, having left his home, he rode with all\nhis train to the seaport of Nic\u00e6a, where Blanchefleur had been sold, and\nwhen come there he took his lodgings in the house of a rich man, who\nnobly entertained his guest; but Fleur, thinking only of his love, sate\ndolefully at table, scarce knowing what or if he ate, and this his\nmournful mien being perceived by the hostess, she bade her husband mark\nit too, saying, 'Master, see you how sad and thoughtful is that young\nman who sits and sighs? He calls himself a merchant, but I misdoubt me\nwhat may be the wares he seeks!' Then turning to Fleur himself this\nhostess said, 'Young sir, in sitting thus sad and silent, and keeping\nfast where a feast is spread; likewise, in age, mien, and bearing, you\nrecall to my remembrance a fair maiden who no long time ago was here,\nand sate sighing as you now do. Her name was Blanchefleur, and Fleur\nthe name of him she mourned, and for whose sake she was brought to this\nport of Nic\u00e6a and sold for a great price to merchants who were leading\nher away to Babylon, there, as they hoped, to sell her again at double\nthe price they gave.'\n\nAt the sound of Blanchefleur's name Fleur answered not, but for very\nbewilderment of joy overturned the wine-cup before him with his knife.\nWhen somewhat come to himself, he drew from his stores a golden cup and\noffered it to the hostess, saying, 'Accept this cup as payment, both for\nthe wine which has been spilt and for the tidings you have given of my\nlost Blanchefleur;' and when the hostess had thanked him, Fleur arose\nand went to the harbour, and there hired a ship in which to sail to\nBabylon; and when the ship was ready he and his servants, and all that\nthey had, embarked in it, and sailed on and on till they came to a city\ncalled Bagdad; and at Bagdad they landed, and took up their abode with a\nrich man, who set the best of everything before them; but though Fleur\nsate at the table, his thoughts were far away with his lost love.\n\n'Sir,' said the host, marking the dejection of his guest, 'why do you\nnot eat? Is the fare not to your taste?' And when Fleur answered not to\nhis inquiries, the host continued, 'Young sir, give ear to me! I will\ntell you somewhat to distract your thoughts. No long time ago some\nmerchants came to this house to spend the night, and with them they\nbrought a maiden, who for fairness of face and sorrow of heart resembled\nyou, for she sate weeping, and would neither eat nor drink, and by those\nof her company she was called Blanchefleur.'\n\n'Sir host!' cried Fleur with altered mien, 'can you not tell me more?\nMarked you not what road the travellers took on leaving you?'\n\n'Young sir,' replied the host, 'they took the road to Babylon.'\n\nThen Fleur arose, and brought from his store a golden cup and a scarlet\nmantle. 'Take these,' said he to the host, 'as my gift, but keep your\nthanks for Blanchefleur, who reigns within my heart.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWell pleased with such a lordly gift, the host wished his guest\nGod-speed and good-luck to find his love.\n\nSupper over, the company retired to rest, and at the morrow's early dawn\nFleur himself awoke his chamberlain and bade him rouse their people, as\nhe would be up and away; so when all was ready they set forth, guided\nthrough the city by their host, and when he had set them on the right\nway, they rode on and on till they came to a great river, and saw on its\nfarther side a city, Montfelis by name; and here was no bridge, but only\na horn hanging on a cypress tree for those to blow who would call the\nferryman.\n\nSo Fleur blew the horn, which being heard in Montfelis, presently a\nlarge boat appeared in which the servants and baggage were ferried\nacross the river, but the master ferryman took Fleur alone in a little\nboat.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Young sir,' said the boatman, marking the doleful bearing of his\npassenger, 'whither go you and what seek you in this land?'\n\n'As you may see, we are merchants,' replied Fleur, 'and on our way to\nBabylon, but as to-night it is too late to travel farther, can you tell\nus of any hostelry where we and our horses may stay the night?'\n\n'Sir,' said the boatman, 'truly I know of an inn to suit your purpose,\nbut the cause which moved me to ask your journey's purpose is, that not\nlong ago we ferried across this river a maiden who resembled you in form\nand sadness, and by the people with her she was called Blanchefleur;\nthis Blanchefleur was the fairest creature ever seen; and in my own\nhouse she told me that she was loved by a heathen prince, and because of\nhim had been sold away into distant lands.'\n\nStarting up in eager haste at sound of Blanchefleur's name, Fleur cried,\n'And whither went the maiden Blanchefleur on leaving you?'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Young sir,' replied the boatman, as I have heard tell, Blanchefleur\nwas sold to the Admiral of Babylon, and he loved her more than all his\nwives.'\n\nAt these tidings Fleur rejoiced; but, fearing for his life, he let drop\nno word of seeking Blanchefleur.\n\nAfter lodging for the night in the ferry-house, Fleur asked his host if\nhe could commend him to any good friend in Babylon for lodging and\nfurtherance in his trade.\n\n'Yes, truly that I can,' replied the boatman. 'At the entrance to\nBabylon you will find a river, and on the river a bridge, and on the\nbridge a toll-keeper, to whom, if you give this ring from me, you will\nbe welcome.'\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter V_\n\n\nHaving said adieu to the friendly boatman, Fleur pushed on with such\ndiligence that by eventide he reached the bridge which guarded the\napproach to Babylon, and, on presenting the ring to the toll-keeper, was\nby him kindly received and taken for the night to his house in the city.\n\nNext day, when Fleur went forth to view the city, and beheld how great\nwas the Admiral's might and how strong were the town's defences, his\nheart fainted within him. 'Alas!' thought he, 'I am now where\nBlanchefleur is, but what does that avail me? It was ill done to leave\nmy father's house, where I might have found another love, and even now\n'twere best to turn and save my life, for did the Admiral but hear of me\nI were a dead man, seeing that not for all the treasure of all the world\nwould he give up my Blanchefleur; so what seek I here, where I have none\nto trust and no hope of help?'\n\nWhile Fleur yet stood thus rapt in melancholy meditation, his host came\nup and thus accosted him: 'Friend! why stand you thus looking so\nill-pleased? if any thing be amiss in your food and lodging, tell me and\nit shall be mended.'\n\n'Sir,' replied Fleur, 'all in your house is so well appointed that my\nwhole life were scarce long enough to give you thanks equal to the\nservice I have received; but, from fear of failing in the business that\ncalls me here, I am sorely troubled and distressed.'\n\n'Let us first to dinner, and after that we will talk your matter over,'\nsaid the host.\n\nSo the two went home and sate them down to table; but Fleur, marking\nthat his servant had served him with the cup that was Blanchefleur's\nprice, was so pierced to the heart with sorrow at the sight that the\ntears streamed from his eyes, and Lycoris, the hostess, in pity for his\npain, said to her husband Daries, 'Quick, sir! let us clear the table,\nfor this young man seeks other support than food.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSo, when the table was cleared, Daries desired his guest to declare his\ngrief, if so be that help for it might be found in counsel. But said\nLycoris again: 'Sir, so far as I can judge by his mien and bearing, I\ndeem that this youth grieves for the maiden Blanchefleur, who, now shut\nup in the Admiral's high tower, spent two weeks with us in grievous\nsorrow of heart, bewailing her sad fate in being thus sold away far from\nthe youth she loved, and for whose sake she shed many a tear and heaved\nmany a sigh; and, as you may remember, sir, on leaving us this\nBlanchefleur was bought by the Admiral for ten times her weight in gold.\nNow, to my thinking, this youth is brother or lover to the maiden\nBlanchefleur.'\n\n'No brother but her lover am I!' cried Fleur in glad surprise; then\nbethinking him how by such heedless speech his life was put in peril,\nhe cried again: 'No! no! I don't mean that; I am brother and not lover\nto Blanchefleur. We are children of the same parents.'\n\n'With all respect for your word, young sir, you contradict yourself in\none breath,' said Daries the host. 'Best speak the truth out plainly as,\nforsooth, I now do in declaring that it were madness to come in quest of\nthe maiden Blanchefleur; for, if the Admiral but hears of you, you are a\ndead man.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Sir,' said Fleur, 'hear the whole truth--I am son to the King of Spain,\nand seek my stolen Blanchefleur, without whom I cannot live; help me to\nher, and I will give you gold to your heart's content, for ere another\nmoon has waxed and waned, find her I must or die.'\n\n'Life,' replied Daries, 'were ill lost for sake of a maiden, whom no aid\nof mine can make your own, seeing that not, were the whole world to help\nyou, could Blanchefleur be taken from the Admiral, Lord of a hundred\nkings, whose city Babylon is a four-square of twenty miles, and has for\nits defence walls full seventy feet in height, built of a stone so hard\nthat no engine of war from enemies without can pierce their stony front,\nand in these walls are three-and-thirty doors of solid steel let in with\ncunning art, and high uplifted are seven hundred towers, the loftiest\never seen by mortal eye, and these towers are guarded by seven hundred\ngreat lords, each one of whom is great as any king; and if all these\nsuffice not to prove the madness of your quest, know that in the heart\nof the city a mighty castle stands; four stories high is the castle, and\non the fourth and topmost dwells your Blanchefleur, together with four\nother noble damsels in a fair chamber, whose windows are cased in wood\nof the sweet-scented myrtle tree, while its doors are formed of ebony\nthat never yields to fire, and this ebony is overlaid with beaten gold,\non which are graven strange devices of words and scroll and flower-work,\nand, because none but maidens dwell there, this tower is called the\nMaidens' Tower. In its midst stands a crystal pillar, and from the\npillar gushes forth a fountain, whose waters are led on arches into\nevery room, and so back into the pillar; and from the maidens' chamber a\nwinding stair leads to that wherein dwells the Admiral himself, and\nwhither, for fourteen days' service at a time, two maidens must wait\nmorning and evening on their Lord, one with a fair linen towel, the\nother with water in a golden bowl. Fierce and cruel beyond words is the\nwatchman of this tower, and any man who, without good and lawful cause,\napproaches it, he slays. Besides all this, the tower day and night is\nguarded by sixteen furious men, who never close their eyes in sleep;\nand there is yet another strange thing which you shall hear.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Every springtide the Admiral takes to him a wife; and when the year is\nout, he calls to him all the lords, kings, and princes of his realm, and\nin their presence casts off his wife, and causes a knight to behead her,\nthat no man may wed her after him; thus with the bitterness of an early\ndeath does she pay for the fleeting honour of royal wedlock; and when\nhis wife is dead, the Admiral, with intent to replace her with another,\nsummons the maidens who are within the tower to appear before him in a\ngarden, which trembling they enter, none coveting the fatal honour of\nhis choice. This garden, which walls of gold and lapis-lazuli enclose,\ncontains noble trees of every kind, so that in it may be found at all\nseasons every fruit known to mankind; precious spices also abound, such\nas ginger, cinnamon, balm, cloves, nutmeg, and mace; all which, together\nwith the scent of flowers and the song of birds, makes of this garden a\nvery earthly paradise. In the midst of this paradise gushes forth a\nspring of clear water, and overhanging the spring is a tree, ever green\nand ever putting forth fresh blossoms and varied fruits.\n\n'Beneath this tree the Admiral, surrounded by his lords, takes his seat;\nand when seated, he causes the maidens one by one to cross the stream\nbefore him; if they be good maidens and true the water remains clear as\ncrystal, but if it turn dark and turbid they may prepare for death. This\nordeal passed, the Admiral calls the maidens before him beneath the\nblooming tree, which by magic art drops one of its rosy blossoms on her\nwhom its Lord loves best, and who accordingly becomes Queen for one\nfleeting year. Now, dear youth, bethink you what wise man would cheer\nyou on in the quest of Blanchefleur, seeing that, ere this very month be\nout, the Admiral will hold this marriage feast with a new-made wife, who\nall say will be this Blanchefleur, whose loveliness has won his heart?\nMoreover, for some time past, it is she and Clarissa, her companion, who\nhave been called to wait on their Lord, morning and evening, with the\nlinen towel and the golden bowl; for which cause they live in daily\nterror of being chosen, the one or other, to be his crowned victim.'\n\n'Oh good mine host!' cried Fleur, goaded to madness by what he heard,\n'help me with your counsel how to act. My Blanchefleur will I claim\nwithin that garden, for she is mine, and mine alone. What if I die?\nDeath for her sake is sweet, as it but sends me on before to that fair\nparadise whither her soul will follow mine, to dwell for ever amid the\nflowers.'\n\n'Young man,' said the host, 'by your readiness to brave all perils--nay,\neven death itself--for sake of your dear love, I see that you are\nsteadfast of purpose; and therefore, though perilling my own life\nthereby, I will give you counsel which, if followed, shall not turn to\nyour hurt.' So saying, Daries took Fleur aside, and in secret unfolded\nto him a plan, which Fleur accepting with grateful heart followed out in\nsuch wise as the coming chapter will record.\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter VI_\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nArising betimes next day, Fleur, as instructed by his host, arrayed\nhimself with great magnificence, and in this bravery of attire started\nfor the Maidens' Tower. When come there, he set with great seeming\nearnestness and diligence to measuring the tower's dimensions of height,\ndepth, length, and breadth; soon, however, his business was rudely\ninterrupted by the watchman, who, catching sight of this measuring\nstranger, shouted at him for a spy, asking by what right or by whose\nleave he came there to meddle with the tower of the Lord High Admiral of\nBabylon.\n\nUnabashed by this rough reception, Fleur replied in easy, careless\nphrase: 'Friend, the shape and form of your tower please me so well that\nI am taking their dimensions, with intent, on returning to my own land,\nof building me such a tower to be my treasure-house; and taking this one\nof yours to be used for the like purpose, I would fain seek admittance\nto examine it within as well as without, which admittance might indeed\nbe granted to me without fear by you and your Lord, seeing that I am\nwealthier than the two of you put together.'\n\n'In mistrusting this man I erred,' thought the watchman; 'for, indeed,\nsuch rich attire would ill become a spy.' So, after putting some\nsearching questions to test his quality, the watchman, eased of doubt by\nthe ready answers he received, invited the stranger to step into his\nhouse and play a game of chess; and when Fleur, accepting the challenge\nand invitation, was come in, his host and opponent said, 'Now, sir, say\nwhat shall be the stakes?'\n\n'A hundred byzants a side,' said Fleur.\n\n'Done with you!' cried the host; and when, at his call, a chess-board of\nebony and ivory was brought, the two sate down to play.\n\nNow Fleur wore upon his finger that priceless ring, his mother's parting\ngift, and in playing took heed to keep its gem turned outwards towards\nhis opponent, who, seeing, coveted the jewel; and by keeping his eye on\nit and off the board, speedily lost the game, and with it, to his fury,\nthe double stakes; but Fleur, forewarned by the friendly Daries that his\nantagonist's greed of gain equalled his love of chess, refused to take\nthe winnings, and was accordingly invited by the grateful loser to come\nand play a return match on the morrow. Fleur accepted the challenge, and\nnext day staking two hundred byzants against as many on the watchman's\nside, he again contrived, by help of the ring, to win the game and\nstakes, and as before handed over the latter to his antagonist, who,\nequally amazed and delighted by such unwonted liberality, declared\nhimself ready to perform any service for so generous a player. Next day\nthe stakes rose to four hundred byzants on either side, and were won by\nFleur, who promptly relieved the horror of his host at such heavy loss\nby handing over to him the entire eight hundred. Overcome by such\nliberality, the watchman invited his noble opponent to a collation in\nhis chamber on the following day; and when Fleur thus bidden appeared,\nhe brought with him his splendid drinking-cup, and placed it on the\nboard before him.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe watchman, unable to keep his eyes off the cup, so greatly did he\nadmire it, offered, if his guest would play him for it, to stake a\nthousand byzants on his side.\n\n'Sell or game away the cup I may not,' replied Fleur; 'but for help in\nthe time of need I will freely give it.'\n\nThen, overcome by greed of so goodly a gift, the watchman swore to Fleur\nthat he would be his man, and do service good and true, whensoever and\nhowsoever he might be called on.\n\nHaving thus made sure of the guardian of the tower, Fleur plainly said\nthat he must find his way within to his beloved or die.\n\n'Ah, friend!' cried the watchman, sorely repenting him of his rash\npromise; 'I fear me your riches have lured me on to the destruction of\nus both; nevertheless, the word that I have given I will keep, so return\nnow to your lodging, and there abide for two days; and on the third,\nwhich will be May Day, come again to me, all clad from head to foot in\nrosy red, and you shall be borne up to the topmost story of the tower\nwhere Blanchefleur dwells.'\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter VII_\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAt the bidding of his watchman friend Fleur went back to his lodging,\nand there in hope and joy abode for two long days; and when the third,\nwhich was May Day, dawned, he arose and clad himself from head to foot\nin rosy red and hasted to the tower; and when he came to the guard-room,\nhe found a great basket on the floor, and heaped up around the basket\nwere all the fresh-blown flowers of spring that the watchman had caused\nto be gathered from the gardens of Babylon, as May-Day offering to\nBlanchefleur.\n\n'Sir,' said the watchman, 'here lay you down within the basket and stir\nnot.'\n\nSo when Fleur was laid down flat and still, within the basket, the\nwatchman put a hat of red upon his head, and, this done, covered him all\nover with piles of flowers. This done, he called two strong porters and\nsaid, 'Carry up this basket of flowers as my May-Day offering to the\nmaiden Blanchefleur, and when you have presented it, tarry not, but come\nagain to me.'\n\nSo the porters, obedient to their officer, took up the basket and began\nto ascend the stairs; but ere they were half-way up, they began to halt\nand curse, vowing that never in all their days had they carried such\nheavy flowers; and when at length the top was reached, they mistook the\nchamber, for they knocked at Clarissa's door, shouting, 'Here, open! to\nreceive the watchman's May-Day offering to the maiden Blanchefleur.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAnd at the sound of Blanchefleur's name Clarissa ran and opened wide the\ndoor; but without telling the porters of their error, she suffered them\nto bring their flowery burden in and then depart. When they were gone,\nClarissa came and took from the basket a flower that pleased her,\nwhereupon Fleur, thinking she was Blanchefleur, sprang out, and so\nstartled the maiden that she cried in fright: 'Oh! what is that? Oh!\nwhat can that be?' And at her cry the other maidens came running in to\nknow what had affrighted Clarissa, their companion, but Fleur they\nmarked not, because he had laid him down again beneath the blossoms,\nand, being clothed in rosy red, was not distinguished from the roses\nwhich were his bed; then Clarissa, calling to mind how often she had\nheard Blanchefleur speak of a youth in Spain of form and face resembling\nher own, bethought her that this May-Day offering might be the Spanish\nlove of Blanchefleur; so with a laugh she dismissed the maidens who were\nher fellows, saying that a hornet springing out from amid the flowers\nhad frighted her. Reader, picture to yourself the terror of Fleur on\nfinding he was discovered! But fortune was kind, for Clarissa, the\ncaptive daughter of a Duke of Alemannia, was the bosom friend of lovely\nBlanchefleur, and often had the two together bemoaned their lot in being\nthe pair appointed to wait morning and evening on the Admiral with the\nlinen hand-towel and water in the golden bowl.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNow as the chambers of these two maidens adjoined, and a door led from\nthe one into the other, Clarissa with care closed her outer door and\npassed through the inner one into the chamber of Blanchefleur, whom she\nfound sitting all woebegone and rapt in thought of her absent love.\n\n'Blanchefleur!' cried Clarissa, 'come with me and I will show you\nflowers such as you never saw before.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Alas! Clarissa,' replied the mournful, drooping Blanchefleur, 'my\nheart is too heavy to be cheered by flowers, seeing that I am so far\nfrom my love and he from me.'\n\n'Cease your wailing,' cried Clarissa, 'and dear as your love may be, yet\ncome and see the lovely flowers!'\n\nSo Blanchefleur slowly rising came to see the flowers, whereupon Fleur,\nwho heard the voice and knew his love was near, sprang from among the\nblossoms, all clad like the roses in rosy red, and Blanchefleur knew\nhim, and he knew her, and they gazed speechless with love and joy face\nto face upon each other, and silently they fell on each other's neck\nwith kisses and fond embraces, until at length Blanchefleur found words\nto say, 'Clarissa! behold my love! my heart's delight, my comfort, and\nmy joy!' Then the two joined in praying good Clarissa not to part their\nlove by declaring it, as that would be their death.\n\n'Have no fear,' replied Clarissa; 'I will help you as best I can; the\nfood and wine that are brought for two will suffice for three, and you\nwill find me ever true.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThen the two lovers went into Blanchefleur's chamber, and sitting them\ndown upon the bed, which was spread with a gold-embroidered silken\ncover, they told each other all that had befallen them since their\nparting.\n\n'Ah, love!' sighed Fleur, 'what have I not suffered for your sake? I had\nwell-nigh died of sorrow.'\n\n'And I,' said Blanchefleur, 'since the day on which you departed to\nMontorio, have known no joy, but have gone mourning for my love;' and\nthen again the lovers kissed each other, and Fleur showed Blanchefleur\nthe ring, his mother's parting gift, and told her of its magic power.\n\nMeanwhile good Clarissa, trembling lest the secret of her friend should\nbe betrayed, guarded it with jealous care as though it had been her own:\nso these three lived and ate and drank together, letting no living soul\nshare their secret, and the lovers, happy as the day was long, would\ngladly thus have lived and died together, but, alas! the course of true\nlove never can run smooth, and all too soon was their joy turned into\nsorrow.\n\nOne morning Clarissa woke to find the sun already high in the heavens;\nso, running in to Blanchefleur, she bade her too arise, as it was late,\nand full time that both were in attendance on their Lord.\n\n'Go on before,' said Blanchefleur, half-waking and half-dreaming, and I\nwill follow;' and she came not, but fell asleep again. So when Clarissa,\nreturning from the spring with her golden bowl, again knocked, and this\ntime got no answer, she hasted to the Admiral, thinking to find\nBlanchefleur gone on before to him, but she found her not.\n\n'Why tarries Blanchefleur?' asked the Admiral, wondering that Clarissa\ncame alone.\n\n'Sire,' said Clarissa, 'all through the night, Blanchefleur was reading\nin her psalter and praying long life for you, and towards the morning\nshe fell asleep and slumbers still.'\n\n'That,' said the Admiral, well pleased, 'was a good work, and as reward\nfor it Blanchefleur shall be my bride.'\n\nNext morning the same thing happened. Again Clarissa overslept herself,\nand on waking found the sun already high in the heavens; again she\ncalled to Blanchefleur to make ready while she filled her golden bowl\nwith water at the spring, and again Blanchefleur, half-waking and\nhalf-dreaming, replied, 'I come,' and came not, but fell back in\nslumber, so that Clarissa on hasting to their Lord found no Blanchefleur\nthere.\n\n'Where,' again asked the Admiral, 'is Blanchefleur?'\n\n'Sire,' said Clarissa, 'I called in passing at her door ere filling my\ngolden bowl with water at the spring, and Blanchefleur said she would be\nhere before me.'\n\nIn some surprise the Admiral then bade a chamberlain go see why\nBlanchefleur tarried: so the chamberlain hasted to Blanchefleur's\nchamber, which was all ablaze with precious stones, and there, locked in\neach other's arms, found Fleur and Blanchefleur, and, taking Fleur in\nhis tender beauty to be Clarissa, the chamberlain had not the heart to\nwake the two, but hasted back to tell his Lord how sweetly Blanchefleur\nand Clarissa slept, and, lo! Clarissa stood before him.\n\nAs for the Admiral, he turned white with fury.\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter VIII_\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n'Give me my sword,' cried the Admiral, 'and with it I will soon find who\nis this feigned Clarissa, for here the true one stands before me.' So\nsaying, the furious Lord went with the chamberlain to Blanchefleur's\nchamber, and when the thick silken curtains were drawn aside and the\nbright sunlight streamed in, he beheld the sleeping pair, and so fair\nwas Fleur that even the Admiral in his fury doubted if he were not a\nmaiden, but all the same with uplifted sword he prepared to smite both\nFleur and Blanchefleur to the death, when suddenly they awoke, and\nseeing before them this furious Lord with uplifted sword they shed\nbitter tears, well knowing that they must die. 'Miscreant!' cried the\nAdmiral to Fleur, 'who are you, and how dared you enter into my Tower?\nFor so doing you shall die the death.'\n\n'Have mercy, sire,' said Fleur, 'on the maiden Blanchefleur and on me,\nfor we love each other with a love more true and tender than has e'er\nbeen known before!'\n\nThen came forward the chamberlain and prayed his Lord to spare the\ncaptives that they might have due trial for their offence.\n\nTo this respite the Admiral consented, but, fearing lest the prisoners\nmight escape, he commanded that they were to be bound with ropes until\nby the lords of all the land sentence should be passed upon them. Now as\nthe Admiral's yearly wedding festival was near at hand, the great lords\nof the realm, such as kings, dukes, counts and barons, were already\nassembled in Babylon; so they appeared without delay at the summons of\ntheir Lord in his glorious hall, which for splendour could not have been\nmatched by Priam, King of Troy, for it was a full mile square, and\ncrystal pillars supported its lofty dome. When, therefore, the Admiral\nwas enthroned in majesty with all his lords around him, silence was\ncommanded, while he thus addressed the assembly:\n\n'My lords, hearken unto me, your King, and pass a sentence on these\nprisoners that will redound to my honour and your own. Behold this\nBlanchefleur, whom for a great price of ten times her own weight in gold\nI bought, thinking to promote her to honour by taking her as my one and\nonly wedded wife on the day appointed for my marriage festival, and\nuntil that day came, that my eyes might be gladdened by her beauty, I\nbrought her into my Maidens' Tower and ordained that she and Clarissa,\nher companion, should wait morning and evening upon me with a fair\nlinen towel and water in a golden bowl; yet scarce had this Blanchefleur\nbeen for four months within my Tower than she betrayed me for another,\nwhom with herself I had in righteous indignation well-nigh slain. So\nnow, my lords, it is for you to pass judgment just and unbending upon\nthese offenders.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nResponding to the call of their King and Admiral, these lords with one\nconsent passed sentence of death upon the prisoners, though differing\namong themselves as to the execution of the same. Some were for hanging,\nothers for the bow-string, while others again proposed that the culprits\nshould be torn asunder by wild horses; most, however, were in favour of\nburning, or perhaps drowning with a heavy stone round the neck: on one\npoint, however, all agreed--viz. that the guilty pair must die.\n\nThen arose a certain king, Aliers by name, and thus spoke. 'It is a\nshame and disgrace,' said he, 'to hear in a royal court such babel of\nvoices, each crying for a different opinion. Be so good, my lords, as to\ndepute one among you to speak for all. Moreover, having now heard the\naccusation of His Highness, it is but just to listen to the prisoners'\ndefence.'\n\n'Not so,' cried Basier, King of Arabia, 'not so, my lords. If these\nprisoners have betrayed our Lord the Admiral, let them die unheard, like\nthieves caught in the act and punished red-handed without form of\ntrial.'\n\nThe Admiral now commanded the prisoners to be produced, who when they\nappeared were very sad, regarding each other with tender pity.\n\n'My Lord,' said Fleur to the Admiral, 'being guilty I am prepared to\ndie, but spare my Blanchefleur, for she is innocent, seeing that without\nher knowledge I came within your Tower.'\n\n'My Lord,' cried Blanchefleur, 'the guilt is mine, for had I not been in\nyour Tower never would Fleur have sought to enter it. Moreover, it were\nshame that a king's son should die for me, who am but the daughter of\nhis handmaid.'\n\n'Not so, my Lord,' cried Fleur again; 'let me die, that Blanchefleur may\nlive.'\n\n'Be easy,' said the Admiral, 'for with my own hand I will slay you\nboth.' So saying, he made for the prisoners with his drawn sword,\nwhereupon Blanchefleur sprang forward and offered her neck for the blow,\nbut was dragged back by Fleur, who with indignant tears exclaimed:\n'What! Shall I, to my shame, suffer you, a woman, to die for me, who am\na man, before the eyes of this great assembly?' And so saying, Fleur\nextended his neck instead for the death-blow, but Blanchefleur in turn\npulled him back by his clothes and ran in before him, holding out her\nneck. Thus for some time these lovers strove, each seeking to die before\nthe other, until for pity the lords began to weep, and even the Admiral,\nfeeling his heart relent, let the sword drop from his hands.\n\nThen stepped forward a certain Duke, and in the name of all present\nmade earnest petitions for the prisoners' lives. 'Methinks,' said he,\n'that for the safety and honour of our Lord the Admiral 'twere best to\nspare the prisoners, whose death would profit him not, whereas by\nfreeing them on condition that Fleur revealed in what wise he stole into\nthe Tower, His Highness may discover and punish his unfaithful\nservants.'\n\nThe Admiral, marking that all his lords were inclined to mercy, agreed\nto this Duke's proposal and offered their lives to the captives if Fleur\nwould but tell how he made his way into the Tower.'\n\n'That, sire, replied Fleur, 'I may only do under promise of pardon to\nthose who were my helpers.'\n\n'No! no!' cried the Admiral, furious at the thought of further mercy.\n'They shall all die, every man among them.'\n\nThen came forward a Bishop, who, falling at the Admiral's feet,\nentreated that the gracious mercy of His Highness might be extended to\nall concerned; 'for,' said the Lord Bishop, 'it would please the\nassembled company better to hear the prisoners' story than to behold\ntheir death.' These words of the Bishop were supported by all the lords,\nwho with one acclaim called on their King and Admiral to pardon the\nprisoners at the prayer of his faithful subjects. So the Admiral gave\near to the prayer of his lords and pardoned the lovers and all and\nsundry who were their helpers, and when this was done Fleur arose and\ntold the whole sweet and touching story of Blanchefleur and himself from\nthe time of their birth up to the moment when they were found together\nin the Tower, and when his tale was told Fleur knelt down before the\nAdmiral and entreated His Highness with tears for the gift of\nBlanchefleur, for whose sake he had done and suffered so great things;\nseeing, moreover, that without her he could not live, nor indeed could\nshe, if torn from him, find life endurable.\n\nThen the Admiral took Fleur by the hand, and kissing him bade him sit\nby his side as beseemed the son of a king, and taking Blanchefleur also\nby the hand His Highness said to Fleur: 'Friend, herewith I give and\ngrant to you the maiden Blanchefleur, together with pardon full and free\nof all offence committed by you against my kingly power and majesty.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOvercome with joy and gratitude, those lovers sank at the feet of their\nbenefactor, who raised and kissed them, and after that he made Fleur a\nknight according to the fashion of the land.\n\n\n\n\n_Chapter IX_\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNow when all had turned out thus happily for Fleur and Blanchefleur, the\nAdmiral proclaimed a great festival, and in pomp and splendour led to\nchurch Clarissa, daughter of the Duke of Alemannia, and there took her\nas his one and only wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better for\nworse, to his life's end: in the same church also and at the same time\nwere Fleur and Blanchefleur united in holy wedlock. Then came the feast,\nat which the Admiral sat enthroned with his bride Clarissa on one side,\nand Fleur and Blanchefleur on the other, and after them all the lords of\nthe realm, placed in order according to their rank. When the banquet was\nover the wedding guests diverted themselves with jousting, tilting,\nwrestling, and jumping matches, not forgetting music and song, that\nlasted for days together, and while the merry-making was at its height,\nbehold! there came ambassadors bearing tidings from Spain that King\nFenis and his Queen were dead, and the mourning country stood in sore\nneed of the absent Fleur, heir and successor to the King deceased: and\nat these heavy tidings the joy of Fleur was turned to sorrow, and,\nseeking the Admiral, he prayed His Highness for permission to depart to\nhis own country, which so sorely needed its King and ruler; but the\nAdmiral, loath to part with the guest he had learned to love, sought to\npersuade Fleur, by promise of a greater and richer kingdom than his own,\nto give up land and people and abide with him; but when Fleur, whose\nheart was true to his home and Spain, would not be tempted from his\npurpose, the Admiral, commending his departing guests to the care of his\ngods, speeded him on his way with many a rich and costly gift. Thus did\nFleur and Blanchefleur take their journey back again to Spain, and when\nthey were come the people received them with great joy, and crowned\nFleur King in the place of his father Fenis, and Blanchefleur they\ncrowned as Queen, and so this happy pair lived on united in tender love\ntogether to their hundredth year, and when Fleur was made King he\nembraced the Christian faith of his Blanchefleur, and caused all his\npeople to become Christians and receive baptism, and soon after these\nthings Fleur inherited the land of Hungary from his uncle, who died\nchildless; but to Fleur and his Queen Blanchefleur was born a daughter,\nBertha by name, who became wife to King Pepin of France, and mother of\nCharles, that great Emperor whose fame is known throughout the world.\n\n[Illustration: FINIS]","title":"The Sweet and Touching Tale of Fleur & Blanchefleur: A Medi\u00e6val Legend Translated from the French","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":9562}