The Knight and the Lily Maiden

In a folk-tale of Normandy a knight who had resisted the charms of the sex till he had acquired a reputation for coldness that exempted him from its assault, was accustomed to spend much time in graveyards, where he would be seen in a listening attitude, as if he expected some message from the dead which would show him the way to happiness. And the way came as he did not expect it, for, so wandering among the tombs, he met on a fair morning a woman of beauty such as he had never before imagined. She was sitting on one of the marbles, dressed in precious stuff, with glowing jewels at her waist, and hair as yellow as the pollen of the lily she held in her hand. Her presence breathed a sweetness that filled him with admiration and awe, and, kneeling, he kissed her hand, at which salute the lady woke, as from a dream, and, smiling on him, said, “Sir knight, will you take me to your castle? You have sought me long, and I have come at last, for I have been waiting the hour I might disclose myself. That happiness you have denied to yourself so long, it is mine to give. But before I go with you I must exact one promise, and it is that none shall speak of death when I am near. Think of me as representing the life of the world, the bloom of youth, the tenderness of love, and think of this as yours forever.”

The knight, enraptured, lifted the maid to his horse; the animal cantered away without seeming to feel her added weight, and they as they rode through the fields the wild flowers bent their heads, the trees murmured musically, and fragrance filled the air, as from unseen beds of lilies. So they were married, and were very happy. If now and then some touch of his old sad manner was seen in the knight, his wife had only to place a lily against his brow and all melancholy disappeared. Christmas eve arrived, and a great banquet was ordered. Flowers of magic size adorned his table, the dames sparkled with smiles and jewels, and the lords wore so brave a mien it was inspiriting to look at them. And while they feasted a minstrel sang, now of love, now of war, of knightly adventures, of noble deeds and high resolves; then, tuning his harp to a more reverent strain, he sang of heaven and the earning of it through death. At the word the lily wife turned pale and began to fade like a flower touched with frost. her husband caught her in his arms with a cry of anguish, for now she began visibly to shrink, and in a few moments grief and bewilderment possessed him, for, behold, he was clasping a lily in his arms, and its petals were dropping to the floor. A great sighing was heard in the air, and the room was filled with a sweet odor. The knight turned away with a despairing gesture and went out into the darkness, never again to be seen by those about his board. And out of doors a change had come. It had grown cold and bleak, and angels were scattering over the earth he lily petals of the snow.

From: Myths and Legends of Flowers, Trees, Fruits, and Plants, by Charles M. Skinner, c. 1911 by J.B. Lippincott Company