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Updated: May 4, 2025
"How like your dear mother you are, my little one, in your modest requirements!" Having finished the lesson, the little old woman retired to a remote part of the palace which, through Hafrydda's influence, had been assigned to her, and the great northern chief, unbuckling his sword-belt, called lustily for his mid-day meal.
Extracting his head from its embrace, he stood up in a bewildered frame of mind, found that the light-footed Branwen had escaped him, and sat down again on the fallen tree to recover his equanimity. Meanwhile the poor girl ran back to the palace, rushed into Hafrydda's room, threw herself on a couch, and burst into tears.
A grateful look shot from Hafrydda's blue eyes, but it was lost on the youth, who sat gazing at the floor as if engrossed with his great disappointment. "I cannot understand," he continued, in an almost reproachful tone, "how you could ever make up your minds to banish him, no matter how deadly the disease that had smitten him."
Of course Dromas would not admit this, and of course Hafrydda's fair cheeks were crimsoned when the youth, accidentally looking up, caught the princess accidentally gazing at him; and, still more of course, the king, who was sharp as a needle in such matters, observed their confusion and went into a loud laugh, which he declared was only the result of merry thoughts that were simmering in his brain.
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