In this she did well,
for she gave no evidence of what was in her mind beyond saying:
"Look here, damsel, and tell us truly where the shirt was sewed
that this knight has on, and if you had any hand in it or worked
anything of yours into it." Though the maiden feels some shame,
yet she tells the story gladly; for she wishes the truth to be
known by him, who, when he hears her tell of how the shirt was
made, can hardly restrain himself for joy from worshipping and
adoring the golden hair. His companions and the Queen, who were
with him, annoy him and embarrass him; for their presence
prevents him from raising the hair to his eyes and mouth, as he
would fain have done, had he not thought that it would be
remarked. He is glad to have so much of his lady, but he does
not hope or expect ever to receive more from her: his very desire
makes him dubious. Yet, when he has left the Queen and is by
himself, he kisses it more than a hundred thousand times, feeling
how fortunate he is. All night long he makes much of it, but is
careful that no one shall see him. As he lies upon his bed, he
finds a vain delight and solace in what can give him no
satisfaction. All night he presses the shirt in his arms, and
when he looks at the golden hair, he feels like the lord of the
whole wide world.
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