It was in the forest she had first met Godfrey, and it was in the forest he had vowed to love her always. So as she sang her shepherd's song and called softly to the straying herds, she was with her absent prince in memory.
"He will come for me by and by," she would whisper to herself sometimes, when she waked suddenly from a dream in which Godfrey had seemed very near. Other times she would be frightened lest perhaps he might some day pass her on the highway. "In my peasant's dress, there is but little to remind him of the princess whom he bade farewell in my father's hunting forest," she would say. She had no mirror and quite forgot her lovely face and her golden hair, which a queen might well have envied.
One evening in autumn, when the night falls early and the darkness creeps on swiftly, the princess wandered through the forest in search of the cattle. She was tired, but as she walked among the trees she grew rested, and presently she began to sing. In the open spaces she called softly, but no creatures came to follow her. The wind sighed through the pines, and once she started, thinking she heard some one call her name. She stood quite still and listened, but the wind died away and the forest was silent. She wandered farther, and the trees grew more dense. There was no moon to guide her, and after a time, the princess perceived she had lost her way.
"For myself, it does not matter," said she, "I can find shelter in the hollow of some tree and there be very comfortable until morning." Never before had the cattle strayed so far but that at the sound of her voice they would come slowly down the paths and crashing through the brush. They followed her like pets. She resolved to call them once more and began to sing:
"Oh, tell me, shepherds, have you ever heard,
A wee white lamb that cries at eve—"
but she broke off her song and caught her breath sharply. An old mill stood before her in the spot where a great oak had spread its branches when she began her song! The mill sails turned and creaked in the forest breeze, but there was not a sound of life about the place. There were no doors, and though the princess walked all around the walls, she found no opening save a sort of window heavily barred and crossbarred. On the top of the walls glistened jagged lumps of glass.
"It looks more like a prison than a mill," thought she, and then as she peered into the opening, a voice from the dungeon beneath began to sing. Yvonne's heart leaped for joy; it was the voice of Godfrey, her beloved!
"Yvonne, Yvonne, my heart has ached with longing
Since I bade you farewell in the forest.
Each night my spirit has stolen forth
To kiss you in your dreams
Lest you forget me, because I came not.
A cruel king has stolen my throne and enslaved my land,
And until he is driven from it,
I must remain in this dungeon, bound by his evil spell.
Oh, Yvonne, fly to your father,
Beg him send an army to help my people,
For they suffer greatly and I am powerless.
But before all, Yvonne, unbind your golden hair
That its brightness may shine within these prison walls,
And sing to me that your heart is still mine."
The princess unbound her hair, and in the forest about the mill all became bright as day. Then through her tears she sang of her life, for she was deeply grieved to find Godfrey in such a plight.
"To think that I who love you should be the cause of all your woes!" cried Godfrey, when he had heard her story. "Return to your father, Yvonne. Tell him that you will wed whom he wishes and forget me, for I have brought you naught but tears and sorrows."