“Oh, yes,” he replied, “I will play to you while you do it.” As she was hastily creeping into the hedge and was just going to pluck the flower, for she well knew who the flower was, he began to play, and whether she would or not, she was forced to dance, for it was a magical dance. The quicker he played, the more violent springs was she forced to make, and the thorns tore her clothes from her body, and pricked her and wounded her till she bled, and as he did not stop, she had to dance till she lay dead on the ground.

When they were delivered, Roland said, “Now I will go to my father and arrange for the wedding.”

“Then in the meantime I will stay here and wait for thee,” said the girl, “and that no one may recognize me, I will change myself into a red stone landmark.” Then Roland went away, and the girl stood like a red landmark in the field and waited for her beloved. But when Roland got home, he fell into the snares of another, who prevailed on him so far that he forgot the maiden.