“Maybe she passed by unknownst to you.”
“She has not passed yet. I could recognise her by her queenly gait. They say she was the most beautiful woman that ever lived and had as may lovers as Granuaile herself.”
“And whom did she marry?”
“No one at all.”
“And what is her story then?”
“Listen, and I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll listen,” said Micus.
“As I have already told you, for beauty and elegance there was never the likes of Helen of Aughrim, and though every one who laid eyes on her fell in love, she never fell in love with any one at all.”
“And who did she like best of the lot?”
“Maurice the Rover. And when he was a young man of three sevens, he up and ses to her: ‘Helen’ ses he, ‘will you marry me?’ But she said she would wed no man, and told him to search the whole wide world for some one more beautiful. So he sailed away that very hour, and for seven years he travelled, and travelled, and travelled, up hill and down dale, but could find no one more beautiful. And then he returned and told her his story. But all she said when she heard it, was: ‘Try again,’ ses she. And away over the seas he sailed again, and searched until seven more years had passed away, and he returned again, and he said, ‘Helen’; but she interrupted and ses: ‘I know what you are going to say,’ ses she. ‘But all I can say to you, is try again.’