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His face went red as a sunset, and the veins swelled in his neck and his forehead. "Do you say that?" he cried to Duv Laca. "I do," said Duv Laca. "Let the King of Leinster take her," said Mongan. Duv Laca and the King of Leinster went apart then to speak together, and the eye of the king seemed to be as big as a plate, so fevered was it and so enlarged and inflamed by the look of Duv Laca.
"All that I have," cried Branduv, "and all that every-body has." "And you must pass your word and pledge your word that you will do what I ask." "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!"
"Wait a moment!" was all the veteran said, as he checked their appetite for plunder; and the wisdom of his advice was soon made evident. Henry de Laca, Count Palatine of the Rhine, began to menace his rear. The troops of the count were fresh, and had been proved in former trials.
She fell in love with them as Mongan had done, but there was nobody in the world could have avoided loving those cows: such cows they were! such wonders! Mongan and Duv Laca used to play chess together, and then they would go out together to look at the cows, and then they would go in together and would talk to each other about the cows.
"Let us not go near him at all," said Mongan, "for he is coming to complete his bargain." "What bargain are you talking about?" Duv Laca asked. But Mongan would not answer that. "Let us go out," said he, "for we must go out." Mongan and Duv Laca went out then and welcomed the King of Leinster.
"These," said the King of Leinster, "are the most beautiful cows in Ireland, and," he continued thoughtfully, "Duv Laca is the most beautiful woman in Ireland." "There is no lie in what you say," said Mongan. "Is it not a queer thing," said the King of Leinster, "that I should have what you want with all your soul, and you should have what I want with all my heart?"
For he could not forget Duv Laca of the White Hand, and he could not remember her without longing and despair. It was in the illness which comes from longing and despair that he sat one day looking on a world that was black although the sun shone, and that was lean and unwholesome although autumn fruits were heavy on the earth and the joys of harvest were about him.
Every few minutes he gave a great sigh as if he had eaten too much, and when Duv Laca asked him if he had eaten too much he said he had but that he had not drunk enough, and by that he meant that he had not drunk enough from the eyes of the girl before him.
For a long time he had been at enmity and spiteful warfare with Fiachna Finn; and to this Fiachna Duv there was born in the same night a daughter, and this girl was named Duv Laca of the White Hand. "Ah!" cried the Flame Lady. "You see!" said Mongan, and he drank anew and joyously of the fairy wine.
When the men of Ulster saw the condition into which Mongan fell they were in great distress, and they all got sick through compassion for their king. The nobles suggested to him that they should march against Leinster and kill that king and bring back Duv Laca, but Mongan would not consent to this plan. "For," said he, "the thing I lost through my own folly I shall get back through my own craft."
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