But how about mother, perched up on the mill-*house
[His eyes are drawn downwards again; he leaps and laughs.
Hei, how the Halling[1] flies over the green!
Ay, Guttorm, he can make his fiddle speak out!
It gurgles and booms like a foss[2] o'er a scaur.
And then all that glittering bevy of girls!—
Yes, galloping death, I must join in the frolic!
[Leaps over the fence and goes down the road.
SCENE THIRD.
The farm-place at Hegstad. In the background, the dwelling-house. A Throng of Guests. A lively dance in progress on the green. The Fiddler sits on a table. The Kitchen-master[3] is standing in the doorway. Cookmaids are going to and fro between the different buildings. Groups of Elderly People sit here and there, talking.
A Woman.
[Joins a group that is seated on some logs of wood.]
The bride? Oh yes, she is crying a bit;
But that, you know, isn't worth heeding.
The Kitchen-master.
[In another group.]
Now then, good folk, you must empty the barrel.
A Man.
Thanks to you, friend; but you fill up too quick.
