The ribbon at its neck caught his eye at once, and he bent down to examine it. At first sight of the name he started in astonishment, and let go his hold. Then, catching the animal again, he took the ribbon from its neck with trembling fingers.
The lamb was let to run as it pleased; Ørlygur stood with the garter in his hand, stroking it softly. His heart beat fast, his head was giddy. Tears came to his eyes, and his thought was all confused, but there was a great joy at his heart.
He sat down on the wall of the enclosure; the sun was just rising. Never before had he seen such a glorious opening to any day. The piece of ribbon in his hand made this day one beyond all others; it called him from his sleep to be king in a beautiful world.
He realized now that, though he had felt sure before, there had nevertheless been something lacking—and here it was. All was certain now. And the joyous possibilities of the future seemed unbounded. He sat there now for hours, deep in his dreams, twining the ribbon round his fingers, one after another—none must be forgotten—and at last round his neck.
Suddenly he started at the sight of his father approaching, and put away the ribbon hastily. He got up in some embarrassment; it occurred to him suddenly that Ormarr might perhaps have noticed the ribbon himself at first. The thought left him utterly at a loss.
Ormarr came up and sat down quietly, as if unaware of anything typo.
“A fortunate thing about the lamb,” he said. “Coming back unharmed like that. All sorts of accidents might have happened to it.”
“Yes,” said Ørlygur, trying to speak calmly.
“Have you time to help me today with the mangers in the big stable?—or were you thinking of going somewhere else?”
Ørlygur felt suddenly that it was most urgent he should go somewhere else, though he had no clear idea as to where. There was something in Ormarr’s voice that seemed to suggest he was not expected to remain at home.