[ACT I.
THE FEAST AT SOLHOUG.
207
Margit.
Gudmund Alfson! Here! How can you think—?
Signë.
Oh, I am sure of it.
Margit.
[Crosses to the right.] Gudmund Alfson is at the wedding-feast in the King's hall; you know that as well as I.
Signë.
Maybe; but none the less I am sure it was he.
Margit.
Have you seen him?
Signë.
Oh, no, no; but I must tell you—
Margit.
Yes, haste you—tell on!
Signë.
'Twas early morn, and the church bells rang,
To Mass I was fain to ride;
The birds in the willows twittered and sang,
In the birch-groves far and wide.
All earth was glad in the clear, sweet day;
And from church it had well-nigh stayed me;
For still, as I rode down the shady way,
Each rosebud beguiled and delayed me.
Silently into the church I stole;
