The King’s foster-brother turned and went back to the city. All the way the blossoms drifted and blew after him along the track; till at evening he stood at the palace door in a wind of syringa scent, and dead flowers blew over his feet as he crossed the threshold. Then he told the King all that he had seen and heard, and the King knew surely that his Queen, who had died so gentle and beloved a death, had been innocent of the crime laid to her charge. So great was his grief he could not rest; that very night he rose and journeyed till he came by day to the little garden; there he found the tree blossomless, and in the top of it he heard the blue bird crying, “Syringa, Syringa,” sadly and without ceasing. But to the King there came no sign or sound of his love. He laid his head upon the ground at the foot of the tree, sighing, “My love, you lay three years with your ear to the ground listening for my feet; now I will lie and listen for yours!” All the grass became wet with the tears of sorrow that the King shed; the tree waved and grew more green. In three days new blossoms looked out among the leaves; at night they fell upon his face, and he dreamed that Syringa’s lips were laid to his ear, and the tale of her betrayal whispered to him. Then, knowing all, but determined for a time to let the truth lie buried in his heart, he caused the tree to be lifted from the ground and carried back and set secretly in the palace garden. And of all this, and of what he knew, he said nothing to the Queen-widow. To the little blue bird that had followed the tree, and perched in its boughs, he said, “Be silent, little blue bird, and do not sing that name here.” At his word the little blue bird became silent as death, and sat motionless in the heart of the tree, never once breathing Syringa’s name. At night the Prince would come and press his lips to the leaves of the tree and whisper, “Ah, love, how long is my heart to stay broken? And when will forgiveness blossom?” But to the Queen-widow it appeared that the Prince was recovering from his grief; and when a year had gone round she began wooing him by stealth, seeming to pity him for the sorrow that the wickedness of his dead Queen had caused him. Little by little he seemed to listen and open his heart to her; once he said, “All my grief would go if one whom I love could know that my heart, which once turned from her, has become wholly hers again.” When the Queen-widow heard that said, she thought, “Surely now, in a short time, all my schemes are to be brought to a good end.” One day as they walked and talked together in the gardens of the palace, they came upon a tree white and covered with blossom. “How I love that flower!” said the King; but the Queen-widow as soon as she smelt the scent of it turned pale and trembled. Up among the branches sat a little blue bird silently.