When some time had passed and King Fenis marked that the intelligence of his son was now beginning to awake, he called the child to him and said: ’Fleur, now must you go diligently to school and learn of the wise Master Gaidon.’ But for all answer to this command Fleur burst into tears, crying out:

’Father! neither reading, writing, nor aught else will I learn, except I have Blanchefleur to be my fellow scholar.’ To this the king consented, so the two children with great joy went hand in hand to school, and there by mutual aid and encouragement so quickly acquired the rudiments of learning that in no long time they were able to exchange love letters, which, being written in the Latin tongue, were not understood by the other scholars.

The tender love which, thus growing with their growth, knit the hearts of these two children together, began, however, to cause displeasure to the King, who, fearing lest it should tend to thwart his plan of wedding his son to a royal bride, determined to part the two, if by fair means well! if not, then by Blanchefleur’s death; but the Queen, in dread that her son might die of grief, pled with her lord to spare Blanchefleur, saying: ’Sir! rather command Master Gaidon, under pretext of failing health, to give up his charge. Thus shall occasion be made for sending Fleur to school at Montorio, where my aunt is Duchess, and among the many high-born maidens there assembled, haply he may find another love.’

To this plan the King consented, yet found not in it the help he hoped; for, on hearing that he was to go to Montorio, leaving his Blanchefleur at home to tend her mother, who, like Master Gaidon, was commanded to feign herself sick, Fleur became so frantic with grief that, to calm his transports, the King and Queen were fain to promise that, in two weeks’ time, Blanchefleur should follow him to Montorio.

Somewhat comforted by this promise, Fleur took a tender farewell of his love, whom he fondly kissed and embraced in the presence of her mother and his own father.

King Fenis, though by no means best pleased with his son’s deportment, yet sent him nobly equipped and provided to Montorio, where, on arrival, Fleur was warmly welcomed by Duke Toras, the Duchess, and their daughter Sibylla, and, when recovered from the fatigue of travel, was by Sibylla conducted to school, where many a fair and noble damsel was to be seen. All was in vain: no matter what of beauty or of loveliness might meet his eye or strike his ear, the thoughts of Fleur were ever and only with his Blanchefleur, for whose sake he heaved many a sigh and dropped many a tear against the day appointed for her coming; and when it came and brought her not, because his parents trusted that she was now forgotten, Fleur drooped and pined; unable, from heaviness of heart, to eat, drink, or sleep; and when his chamberlain saw that Fleur was sick he hasted back to tell King Fenis, who, calling for his Queen, took counsel with her on the matter. ’What remedy there be for Fleur I know not,’ said the King, ’but this thing I know full well, that Blanchefleur has cast a spell upon him, and by enchantment has bound him so fast in love to her that he can look on none other than herself; so go, fetch me Blanchefleur, that she may die and be forgotten.’

Once more did the Queen plead for Blanchefleur’s life.

‘Sir,’ said she, ’it is ill said that Blanchefleur has bewitched our child, for she loves him with a love that passes words, and has known no joy since he departed, but sits alone in tears and sorrow, refusing to eat.’

Thus did the Queen save Blanchefleur from a cruel death, and thus did she further counsel her lord: ‘Ah, sir!’ said she, ’’twere sin and shame to slay the child thus untried and unheard; better far, let her be taken to the harbour, and there sold away into distant lands and never be heard of more.’

Approving the counsel of his Queen, King Fenis sent for two rich merchants, and bade them take Blanchefleur and sell her to foreign traders at the harbour of Nicaea, which they promised faithfully to do.

When dismissed from the presence of the King and Queen, these two merchants hastened to the port of Nicaea, and, out of the many foreign traders who there bought and sold, chose two rich dealers from a distant land, who purchased Blanchefleur at a price that caused the vendors to rejoice, for these men gave 100 pounds of gold, 100 of silver, 100 webs of Indian silk, 100 scarlet mantles, 100 good horses, and 300 birds, such as falcons, hawks, and sparrow-hawks: last and greatest of all, they gave a cup matchless in beauty and beyond all price. Vulcan had made this cup, and on it he had pictured how Paris, son of Priam, king in Troy, had carried off Helena, and was pursued in wrath by Menelaus, Helena’s lord, together with his brother Agamemnon, at the head of a mighty host; and how the Greeks besieged and stormed Troy town, which the Trojans for their part defended, and when the city was taken, AEneas brought away the cup and gave it to a brother of his love Lavinia.

When the purchase was completed, these traders led Blanchefleur away to Babylon, and offered her for sale to its Admiral, whom she pleased so well that he bought her for ten times her weight in gold from these merchants, who, well pleased with the price bestowed, departed after thanks given to the Admiral, who, judging from her great beauty and rich attire that his new purchase must come of noble race, resolved to break his rule of oft-repeated marriage by plighting his troth once and for all to her and her alone. With this intent accordingly he sent Blanchefleur to the women’s tower, appointing twenty-five maidens for her service and solace, seeing that she was ere long to be crowned Queen of Babylon.

No sooner, however, did Blanchefleur, a helpless stranger in a distant land, find herself in a chamber alone and undisturbed, than, giving way to tears and lamentations, she cried, ’Alas, Fleur! who has torn us asunder? Never shall I cease to love and mourn you, for well know I that your heart is rent with the same pangs of love and grief, and that we both must surely die, for without love who would consent to live?’