Bengt.
[Returning.] Methought he seemed to threaten us as he departed.
Margit.
[Absently.] Aye, so it seemed.
Bengt.
Knut Gesling is an ill man to fall out with. And, when I bethink me, we gave him over many hard words. But come, let us not brood over that. To-day we must be merry, Margit!—as I trow we have both good reason to be.
Margit.
[With a weary smile.] Aye, surely, surely.
Bengt.
'Tis true I was no mere stripling when I courted you. But well I wot I was the richest man for many and many a mile. You were a fair maiden, and nobly born; but your dowry would have tempted no wooer.
Margit.
[To herself.] Yet was I then so rich.
Bengt.
What said you, my wife?
Margit.
Oh, nothing, nothing. [Crosses to the right.] I will deck me with pearls and rings. Is not to-night a time of rejoicing for me?
