You'll find there both lambkins and well-seasoned widows
Peer.
To hell
The Smith.
You will surely find one that will have you.—
Good evening! I'll give your respects to the bride.—
[They go off, laughing and whispering.
Peer.
[Looks after them a while, then makes a defiant motion and turns half round.]
For my part, may Ingrid of Hegstad go marry Whoever she pleases. It's all one to me.
[Looks down at his clothes.
My breeches are torn. I am ragged and grim.— If only I had something new to put on now.
[Stamps on the ground.
If only I could, with a butcher-grip, Tear out the scorn from their very vitals!
[Looks round suddenly.
What was that? Who was it that tittered behind there? H'm, I certainly thought No no, it was no one.— I'll go home to mother.
[Begins to go upwards, but stops again and listens towards Hegstad.
They're playing a dance!
[Gazes and listens; moves downwards step by step, his eyes glisten; he rubs his hands down his thighs.
How the lasses do swarm! Six or eight to a man!
Oh, galloping death,—I must join in the frolic!—
