p as he supped: desiring to buy his favour since she could not blunt
his courage. But Starkad, whose bitter resentment was not yet abated,
flung it back in the face of the giver, thinking that in such a gift
there was more scorn than respect. And he was wise not to put this
strange ornament of female dress upon the head that was all bescarred
and used to the helmet; for he knew that the locks of a man ought not to
wear a woman's head-band. Thus he avenged slight with slight, and repaid
with retorted scorn the disdain he had received; thereby bearing himself
well-nigh as nobly in avenging his disgrace as he had borne himself in
enduring it.

To the soul of Starkad reverence for Frode was grappled with hooks of
love. Drawn to him by deeds of bounty, countless kindnesses, he could
not be wheedled into giving up his purpose of revenge by any sort of
alluring complaisance. Even now, when Frode was no more, he was eager
to pay the gratitude due to his benefits, and to requite the kindness
of the dead, whose loving disposition and generous friendship he had
experienced while he lived. For he bore graven so deeply in his heart
the grievous picture of Frode's murder, that his honour for that most
famous captain could never be plucked from the inmost chamber of his
soul; and therefore he did not hesitate to rank his ancient friendship
before the present kindness. Besides, when he recalled the previous
affront, he could not thank the complaisance that followed; he could not
put aside the disgraceful wound to his self-respect. For the memory of
benefits or injuries ever sticks more firmly in the minds of brave
men than in those of weaklings. For he had not the habits of those who
follow their friends in prosperity and quit them in adversity, who pay
more regard to fortune than to looks, and sit closer to their own gain
than to charity toward others.

But the woman held to her purpose, seeing that even so she could not win
the old man to convivial mirth. Continuing with yet more lavish courtesy
her efforts to soothe him, and to heap more honours on the guest, she
bade a piper strike up, and started music to melt his unbending rage.
For she wanted to unnerve his stubborn nature by means of cunning
sounds. But the cajolery of pipe or string was just as powerless to
enfeeble that dogged warrior. When he heard it, he felt that the respect
paid him savoured more of pretence than of love. Hence the crestfallen
performer seemed to be play