Alas for the queen, poor young Blanzeflor! She sat in the darkest of dungeons. No one could get to her.
She fell on her knees upon the straw lying on the prison floor, and prayed to God that he might perform a miracle and set the guiltless free.
“Thou, O God, canst break through prison walls as easily as the sun breaks through the mists,” she said. “Thou canst also set an innocent prisoner free.”
But scarcely had she ended her prayer when she saw in the pale morning light how the thick prison walls fell apart, and between them came a swallow flying, as easily and as quickly as if it were merely flying through the air.
In its beak it held a white pearl, which it dropped upon the queen’s knees.
“This is one of the tears you shed before the high altar,” twittered the swallow, “God gives it you back in the likeness of a pearl.”
At the same moment came another swallow through the wall, and another and another, and in a twinkling the whole prison was filled with a flight of birds.
Each had a white pearl in its beak, which it laid upon Blanzeflor’s lap.
“Here are the tears you shed for those who were poor and sad at heart,” they chirped; “not one has fallen in vain.”