"I fear no misfortune," answered Grani.
"Then," quoth Rolf, "thou art fitted to be an Icelander. And now I will say what I have many times thought: that thy speech is more of Iceland than of this place. Whence did Ar take thee?"
Grani grew red, but answered: "Thou hidest thy parentage."
"True," replied Rolf. "Now I crave thy pardon for questioning thee."
That was the end of that talk, for Rolf drew within himself, and Grani felt shame that he could not ask pardon so easily as the Icelander; and the more he looked on Rolf's countenance the more it seemed that they should be friends. He ceased speaking, and sat with his back half turned, trying to say the words; but for a long time they would not come. At length he said:
"Rolf."
"Aye?" Rolf answered.
Grani said nothing for a while more; at length again he said, "Rolf."
"What is it?" Rolf asked.
But for a second time Grani could not bring himself to speak. Yet at last he made ready to speak without fail and ask forgiveness, and the words were on his tongue.