'Did you see no one pass by on horseback, reverend father?' he asked the
monk.

'Prince Milan and Princess Hyacinthia have just gone on this minute;
they stopped for a few minutes in the church to say their prayers, and
bade me light this wax candle for you, and give you their love.'

'I'd like to wring their necks,' said the magician, and made all haste
home, where he had every one of his servants beaten to within an inch of
their lives.

Prince Milan rode on slowly with his bride without fearing any further
pursuit. The sun was just setting, and its last rays lit up a large city
they were approaching. Prince Milan was suddenly seized with an ardent
desire to enter the town.

'Oh my beloved,' implored Hyacinthia, 'please don't go; for I am
frightened and fear some evil.'

'What are you afraid of?' asked the Prince. 'We'll only go and look at
what's to be seen in the town for about an hour, and then we'll continue
our journey to my father's kingdom.'

'The town is easy to get into, but more difficult to get out of,' sighed
Hyacinthia. 'But let it be as you wish. Go, and I will await you here,
but I will first change myself into a white milestone; only I pray you
be very careful. The King and Queen of the town will come out to meet
you, leading a little child with them. Whatever you do, don't kiss the
child, or you will forget me and all that has happened to us. I will
wait for you here for three days.'

The Prince hurried to the town, but Hyacinthia remained behind disguised
as a white milestone on the road. The first day passed, and then the
second, and at last the third also, but Prince Milan did not return,
for he had not taken Hyacinthia's advice. The King and Queen came out to
meet him as she had said, leading with them a lovely fair-haired little
girl, whose eyes shone like two clear stars. The child at once caressed
the Prince, who, carried away by its beauty, bent down and kissed it on
the cheek. From that moment his memory became a blank, and he forgot all
about the beautiful Hyacinthia.

When the Prince did not return, poor Hyacinthia wept bitterly and
changing herself from a milestone into a little blue field flower, she
said, 'I will grow here on the wayside till some passer-by tramples me
under foot.' And one of her tears remained as a dewdrop and sparkled on
the little blue flower.

Now it happened shortly after this that an old man passed by, and seeing
the flower, he was delighted with its bea