“I pass it and pledge it,” cried the joyful king.
“Then,” said Duv Laca, “this is what I bind on you.”
“Light the yolk!” he cried.
“Until one year is up and out you are not to pass the night in any house that I am in.”
“By my head and hand!” Branduv stammered.
“And if you come into a house where I am during the time and term of that year, you are not to sit down in the chair that I am sitting in.”
“Heavy is my doom!” he groaned.
“But,” said Duv Laca, “if I am sitting in a chair or a seat you are to sit in a chair that is over against me and opposite to me and at a distance from me.”
“Alas!” said the king, and he smote his hands together, and then he beat them on his head, and then he looked at them and at everything about, and he could not tell what anything was or where anything was, for his mind was clouded and his wits had gone astray.
“Why do you bind these woes on me?” he pleaded.