father—that deed is ever on thy tongue; but if report speak true, 'twas scarce so honourable a deed as thou deemest.
Thorolf.
Of what report dost thou speak?
Hiördis.
[Smiling.] I dare not name it, for it would make thee wroth. Thorolf. Then hold thy peace—I ask no better. [Turns from her.
Hiördis.
Nay, why should I not tell it? Is it true, Thorolf, that for three nights thy father sat in woman's weed, doing sorceries with the witch of Smalserhorn, ere he dared face Jökul in fight?
[All rise; violent excitement among the guests.
Gunnar, Sigurd, and Dagny.
Hiördis!
Thorolf.
[Bitterly exasperated.] So base a lie has no man spoken of Örnulf of the Fiords! Thou thyself hast made it, for no one less venomous than thou could dream of such a thing. The blackest crime a man can do hast thou laid at my father's door.
[Throwing the sword away.] There, Gunnar, take thy gift again; I can take nought from that house wherein my father is reviled.
Gunnar.
Thorolf, hear me!
