A grateful look shot from Hafrydda’s blue eyes, but it was lost on the youth, who sat gazing at the floor as if engrossed with his great disappointment.
“I cannot understand,” he continued, in an almost reproachful tone, “how you could ever make up your minds to banish him, no matter how deadly the disease that had smitten him.”
The princess’s fair face flushed deeply, and she shook back her golden curls—her eyes flashing as she replied—
“We did not ‘make up our minds to banish him.’ The warriors and people would have compelled us to do it whether we liked or not, for they have heard, alas! of the terrible nature of the disease. But the dear boy, knowing this, went off in the night unknown to us, and without even saying farewell. We have sent out parties to search for him several times, but without success.”
The youth was evidently affected by this burst of feeling.
“Ah,” he returned, with a look of admiration at the princess, “that was like him—like his noble, self-denying nature. But I will find him out, you may depend on it, for I shall search the land in all directions till I discover his retreat. If King Hudibras will grant me a few men to help me—well. If not, I will do it by myself.”
“Thank you, good Dromas, for your purpose and your sympathy,” said the queen. “The king will be only too glad to help you—but here he comes to speak for himself.”
The curtain door was tossed aside at the moment, and Hudibras strode into the room with a beaming smile and a rolling gait that told of redundant health, and showed that the cares of state sat lightly on him.
“Welcome, good Dromas, to our board. I was too sleepy to see much of you after your arrival last night. Mine eyes blinked like those of an owl. Kiss me, wife and daughter,” he added, giving the ladies a salute that resounded through the room. “Have they told you yet about our poor son Bladud?”
The visitor had not time to reply, when a domestic appeared and said there was an old woman at the door who would not go away.