Peer.
He's there still, for aught I know;—
[Snaps his fingers, turns on his heel, and
adds:
Catch him, and you're welcome to him!
Åse.
And your neck you haven't broken?
Haven't broken both your thighs?
And your backbone, too, is whole?
Oh, dear Lord—what thanks, what praise,
Should be thine who helped my boy!
There's a rent, though, in your breeches;
But it's scarce worth talking of
When one thinks what dreadful things
Might have come of such a leap!
[Stops suddenly, looks at him open-mouthed
and wide-eyed; cannot find words for
some time, but at last bursts out:
Oh, you devil's story-teller,
Cross of Christ, how you can lie!
All this screed you foist upon me,
I remember now, I knew it
When I was a girl of twenty.
Gudbrand Glesnë[1] it befell,
Never you, you
Peer.
Me as well.
Such a thing can happen twice.
Åse.
[Exasperated.]
Yes, a lie, turned topsy-turvy,
Can be prinked and tinselled out,
Decked in plumage new and fine,
- ↑ See Appendix.
