The King gazed fixedly on
Sir Kenneth approaching his bedside, while the knight bent his
knee for a moment, then arose, and stood before him in a posture
of deference, but not of subservience or humility, as became an
officer in the presence of his sovereign.
"Thy name," said the King, "is Kenneth of the Leopard--from whom
hadst thou degree of knighthood?"
"I took it from the sword of William the Lion, King of Scotland,"
replied the Scot.
"A weapon," said the King, "well worthy to confer honour; nor has
it been laid on an undeserving shoulder. We have seen thee bear
thyself knightly and valiantly in press of battle, when most need
there was; and thou hadst not been yet to learn that thy deserts
were known to us, but that thy presumption in other points has
been such that thy services can challenge no better reward than
that of pardon for thy transgression. What sayest thou--ha?"
Kenneth attempted to speak, but was unable to express himself
distinctly; the consciousness of his too ambitious love, and the
keen, falcon glance with which Coeur de Lion seemed to penetrate
his inmost soul, combining to disconcert him.
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