“I shall marry thee to an hero, and thy descendants for ever shall sit, even in the presence of a king.”
“Nay, I shall kneel, and all my seed shall kneel in the house of my dear lord.”
“Sit down, my soul, and let us talk. Lavarcham,” he said, “that girl shall be my wife.”
“I have dreamed of this day,” she murmured.
“You knew I would marry her?”
“I knew that my lord loves the best, and that she is the best. I trained her for my lord.”
“She is the best,” he conceded. “She is better than the best.”
“The king will never blush for his bride, nor I for my training,” she continued, “for in everything that becomes a lady she is well taught.”
“So!” said Conachúr.
“There is no ceremony of court or camp that she does not understand. There is no domestic care that she is not mistress of. She can touch the harp like a master, she can make a poem like a bard.”