"
Pulling the soft curls with a suggestion of his old lightheartedness, the
Etheling laughed with him. "You bantling! Who would have dreamed you to that
degree artful? Are you certain your craft will bear you out? I would not have
you suffer their anger. Are you capable of so much feigning?"
For an instant the boy's eyes were even audacious; and all the hollowness of
the cheeks could not hide a flashing dimple. "Oh, my dear lord, I am capable
of so much more feigning than you guess!" he answered daringly.
"Nay, have I not been wont to call you elf?" Sebert returned. Then his voice
deepened with feeling. "By the soul of my father, Fridtjof, if you bring me
out of this snare, me and mine, I declare with truth that there will be no
recompense you can ask at my hands which I shall not be glad to grant--" He
paused in the wonder of seeing the sparkle in the blue eyes flee away like a
flitting light.
The page turned from him almost with a sob. "Pray you, promise me nothing!" he
said hastily. "If ever I see you again, and you have more to give me than
pity-- Nay, I shall lose my courage if I think of that part. Get me out
quickly while the heart is firm within me. And give me a draught from your cup
to warm my blood."
"Certainly it would be best for you to come to them while they are in such a
state of feasting that their good-humor is keenest and their wits dullest,"
Sebert assented.
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