Of a sudden Darthool laughed low. It was a sweet shy laugh, and Lavarcam, who had come to her side, asked her why there was such sweet low laughter upon her. Mayhap she knew; mayhap she guessed that Darthool dreamed dreams of love, because her womanhood was now come, and because of the old heroic tales she took so great a pleasure in, and because of the vision that every woman has in her heart.
“I was thinking, Lavarcam,” she said.
“And what was that thought, Darthool?”
“It was this: that if there be anywhere a youth whose skin is white as that whiteness there, and whose locks are as dark and glossy as the plumage of that raven, and in whose cheek is a crimson as red as that blood that is upon the snow, then of a surety him could I love, and that gladly.”
For a moment Lavarcam said nought; then the power of Destiny moved her.
“There is one man who is more beautiful than all others I have ever seen. He is young, and his hair is dark and glossy as that raven’s wing, and in his cheek the ruddy flame is as that crimson blood, and his skin is as white as any sunlit whiteness, or as thine own breast, Darthool.”
“And what will be the name of that man, Lavarcam, and whence is he and where, and what is his decree?”
“He is called Nathos, and is the son of Usna, who is a great lord in Alba. But he is now in Emania, among the company of the king; and with him are his brothers, both fair to see, and princes among men because of their beauty and valour, yet neither so surpassing all men as Nathos. They are called Ailne and Ardan.”[18]
That was a fatal saying of Lavarcam, for it sank into the mind of Darthool as moonlight into dark water.
Day by day thereafter she thought of nothing but of meeting this proud son of beauty; night by night she dreamed of Nathos and of his love.