Therefore Lavarcam went not to the palace, but turned aside to the camp of the sons of Usna. And Nathos came out to her, and she told him of the loneliness of the fair Deirdre and of her longing to see him.
Then said Nathos, ‘But it may not be yet awhile, for Concobar found that the fair Deirdre had spoken with the swineherd, and for that cause lies he yonder, a dead man.’
‘Yet tarry not long, for if thou wouldst hunt in the forest, beyond the well, then surely wouldst thou see Deirdre the Star-eyed, and none should know.’
Seven days passed, and Deirdre roamed in the wood dreaming her dream, when of a sudden there came an unknown sound. Ah, could it be the hunting-horn of which Lavarcam had spoken in her tales of chase? The maiden paused. The horn ceased. Nathos had left the hunt and wandered through the glade. There, against a background of blue haze, encircled by a network of blossoming blackthorn, shone forth the fairest vision mortal eye had beheld.
Speech tarried as Nathos gazed spell-bound.
At length the maiden questioned, ‘Nathos, son of Usna, what wouldst thou?’
‘Strange is it that thou shouldst know my name, most fair. No mortal art thou. Fain would I enter yonder cottage, did I but dare, and speak with the daughter of Felim the Harper. Yet it is death should the King know of my desire.’
‘I am that Deirdre whom thou seekest, and if I be fair in thine eyes, it pleaseth me well. It is for thee I have watched long, for is not thy skin white as snow, thy cheek crimson as blood, and thy hair black as the raven’s wing? Lonely are my days in this place, where none dwells save my nurse, my tutor, and Lavarcam.’
Never did harp-strings yield such music as her voice, never did fairy strains pour forth such wonder-stirring sound.
‘Art thou indeed Deirdre the Star-eyed, and is it that King Concobar keepeth thee here like some caged bird?’