210
THE FEAST AT SOLHOUG.
[ACT I.
Margit.
[To herself.]
So much has changed—ah, so much!—since then—
Signë.
Margit, you shall be happy and gay!
Have you not serving-maids many, and thralls?
Costly robes hang in rows on your chamber walls;
How rich you are, none can say.
By day you can ride in the forest deep,
Chasing the hart and the hind;
By night in a lordly bower you can sleep,
On pillows of silk reclined.
Margit.
[Looking towards the window.]
And he comes to Solhoug! He, as a guest!
Signë.
What say you?
Margit.
[Turning.]
Naught.—Deck you out in your best.
That fortune which seemeth to you so bright
May await yourself.
Signë.
Margit, say what you mean!
