“Will you not let me have it, Flann?” She took the girdle in her hands. “Tell me, youth,” she said, “how you got all these treasures?”
“I will have to give seven years’ service for them,” Flann said.
“Seven years,” said she, “but you will remember—will you not—that I loved you for bringing them to me?”
“Will you remember me until I come back from my seven years’ service?”
“Oh, yes,” said Flame-of-Wine, and she put the girdle around her waist as she spoke.
“Someone said to me,” said Flann, “that I should ask the maiden who loved me for seven drops of her heart’s blood.” The girdle was now round Flame-of-Wine’s waist. She laughed with mockery. “Seven drops of heart’s blood,” said she. “I would not give this fellow seven eggs out of my robin’s nest. I tell him I love him for bringing me the three treasures for a King’s daughter. I tell him that, but I should be ashamed of myself if I thought I could have any love for such a fellow.”
“Do you tell me the truth now,” said Flann.
“The truth, the truth,” said she, “of course I tell you the truth. Oh, and there are other truths. I shall be ashamed forever if I tell them. Oh, oh. They are rising to my tongue, and every time I press them back this girdle tightens and tightens until I think it will kill me.”
“Farewell, then, Flame-of-Wine.”
“Take off the girdle, take off the girdle! What truths are in my mind! I shall speak them and I shall be ashamed. But I shall die in pain if I hold them back. Loosen the girdle, loosen the girdle! Take the rose you gave me and loosen the girdle.” She let the rose fall on the ground.