"My dear lord," she said, "I was only born to-day. My past was not life, therefore I am as a little child, and cannot answer thee with wisdom; but inquire of the flowers, whether they would be sad should the sun rise no more. Ah! would they not perish? Would not the world lie down and die from cold? Then, good my lord, and thou lovest me, ask me not so cruel a question."
"It is fate," he murmured, as he held her in his arms and soothed away her pain with tender words.
The Princess awoke the next morning to find the Queen seated beside her bed. Myra was too much in love to notice things which would have impressed her under ordinary circumstances, else she would have thought her royal mother's manner unnecessarily excitable, and would have wondered what secret trouble had suddenly so changed the stately Queen's appearance.
"My child, thy lover waits for thee in thy workroom, therefore rise and robe thee. But before thou goest to him I want thee to refuse the gift with which he will present thee. I am sure it will bring thee ill-luck."
"But good my mother, the Prince loves me too well to offer me aught that could be a source of sorrow to me. What is the gift?"
"It is an Æolian harp," said the Queen, in a whisper.
"An Æolian harp! I have never seen one. Methinks it must be a sweet instrument."
The Queen sighed heavily. She feared that her sin against truth would overtake her at last.
Myra found the Prince and his attendants engaged in fixing the wind harp outside her casement.