Florestan begged that Gervaise would leave them for a little, and he walked slowly away, in a very mournful mood.
He went on down the walks, not heeding where he was going, till he met Yolande, who stood beneath a tree laden with rosy apples, picking the fruit, and throwing it into a basket at her feet. He would have passed her in silence, but she stopped him, and said,
"Have you come with the new Prince? Do you love your master?"
"Ay, better than any one else on the earth," answered Gervaise. "Why do you ask?"
"And where is he now," said Yolande, not heeding Gervaise's question.
"He sits by the fountain with the beautiful Princess," said Gervaise.
"Then, I hope you have said good-bye to him well, for be assured you shall never see him again," said Yolande nodding her head.
"Why not, and who are you to talk like this?" asked Gervaise.
"My name is Yolande," answered she, "and I am Princess Fiorimonde's maid. Do you not know that Prince Florestan is the eleventh lover who has come to marry her, and one by one they have disappeared, and only I know where they are gone."
"And where are they gone?" cried Gervaise, "and why do you not tell the world, and prevent good men being lost like this?"