CHAPTER XVIII
Cathfa had gone away, and Conachúr strode to his prisoners.
“So! Naoise,” he said.
“So! uncle,” said Naoise.
“I win in the end. I always win at last,” said Conachúr.
He looked at each with his stern smile, and when he spoke again it was to Deirdre.
“Little fawn! you have run wild for a long time. You shall rest at last.”
But she made only the reply that a fawn makes, the reply of parted lips and terror-stricken eyes.
“You shall come to me,” he said.
Then she moistened her trembling lips and looked at Naoise.