spoke beseechingly, for indeed he loved her very
dearly. But the Princess shook her head.

"Not so, O Prince," she said. "This flower of the night is not my
dearest one. It is sweet, but its breath is heavy and cloying; it takes
away sleep and fills the brain with stupor. Nay, you have not chosen
wisely, as your own haggard looks show. You are not to be my Prince. You
know not my heart. Farewell, Prince Fortemain."

Then Fortemain rose and turned away, as so many princes had done before
him. He went out of the palace very sadly, and was nevermore seen in
that place.

The Princess turned next to Joyeuse. "And what has our Prince of
Wanderers chosen?" she asked. "How well does Joyeuse know the heart of
Fleurette?"

"I have chosen thus," said the lad, as he knelt at the feet of the
flower-maiden and held out to her the bit of vine, with its frail
blossom. "The sweet and simple blossom of early morning; the favorite of
the early-riser. This has your heart, O my Princess--see, its
heart-shaped leaf! Have I not guessed aright?"

Then the Princess went down the steps of the throne and took the vine
from the hand of Joyeuse and placed its flower in her hair. But her hand
holding the heart-shaped leaf she placed within that of Joyeuse, and she
said: "Prince Joyeuse, you have chosen well, because you know my heart,
and because you love what I love. You have guessed my secret. You found
my heart among the morning-glories, and now it is yours forever. Take
it, Prince Joyeuse, and with it my hand. I have yet to punish you for
your fault in entering my garden at a forbidden hour. Your punishment
shall be this: you shall without reward for a year and a day be my
minstrel, my soldier, my teacher, my doctor. But from thenceforth
forever you shall be my very ownest Prince, sharer of my kingdom of
flowers. This is the doom and the decree which I pronounce."

Then she kissed him very sweetly, and, leading him up to the throne,
they sat down side by side upon the golden chairs.

"Sing to them, my Minstrel," said the Princess. And he sang as she
commanded, until the courtiers hugged one another for joy of his
wondrous music. He sang a song of Fleurette and her heart like a flower.
But he sang not the story of the flower-maiden, for that was a secret
between him and the Princess, while they lived happily ever after.

From that time forward, each morning Joyeuse and Fleurette stole down
into the garden while the others were yet asleep