She loved the poets and their songs of great deeds; and here was one who, in the light of that which they related of him, was like an incarnation of some hero out of a romancer's ballad.
Kenneth she never yet had held in over high esteem; but of a sudden, in the presence of this harsh-featured dog of war, this grim, fierce-eyed ruffler, he seemed to fade, despite his comeliness of face and form, into a poor and puny insignificance.

And when, presently, he unwisely related how, when in the boat he had fainted, the maiden laughed outright for very scorn.
At this plain expression of contempt, her father shot her a quick, uneasy glance.

Kenneth stopped short, bringing his narrative abruptly to a close.

Reproachfully he looked at her, turning first red, then white, as anger chased annoyance through his soul.

Galliard looked on with quiet relish; her laugh had contained that which for days he had carried in his heart.