Explore "Eric Brighteyes" by H. Rider Haggard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Now all this while Asmund sat deep in thought; but when, at length, men were sunk in sleep, he took a candle of fat and passed to the shut bed where Swanhild slept alone. She lay on her bed, and her curling hair was all about her. She was awake, for the light gleamed in her blue eyes, and on a naked knife that was on the bed beside her, half hidden by her hair.
"What wouldst thou, foster-father? " she asked, rising in the couch. Asmund closed the curtains, then looked at her sternly and spoke in a low voice: