" So they filled the air with
marvelling admiration.
Standing in silent listening, Canute's gaze travelled from face to face until
it came to the spot where Elfgiva fluttered among her women, holding her
exquisite head as if it already wore a crown. An odd gleam flickered over his
eyes, and he made a step toward her. "You!" he said. "What do you believe?"
Pealing her silvery laughter, she turned toward him, her eyes peeping at him
like bright birds from under the eaves of her hood. "Lord, I believe that I am
afraid of you!" she coquetted. "When I bethink me that all the time I have
been chiding you for being unambitious for glory, you have had this in your
mind! I shall never presume to compass your moods again. Yes. Oh, yes! I shall
see daggers in your smile and poison in your lightest word." Laughing, she
stooped and kissed his hand with the first semblance of respect which she had
ever shown him.
In the Danish girl's embrace, Dearwyn shivered and nestled closer. "Randalin,
you hear her? She thinks he did it."
"She is a foolish woman," Randalin said impatiently, "and if she do not take
care, she will feel it for speaking so. See how his fingers tap his belt for
all that his face is so still."
His face was curiously still as he regarded the beautiful Elfgiva, -- and
stilly curious, as though he were examining some familiar object in a new
light.
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