Bengt.
Aye, 'tis three years to-day since I became—
Margit.
[Interrupting.] My kinsman has already heard it. [To Gudmund.] Will you not lay aside your cloak?
Gudmund.
I thank you, Dame Margit; but it seems to me cold here—colder than I had foreseen.
Bengt.
For my part, I am warm enough; but then I have a hundred things to do and to take order for. [To Margit.] Let not the time seem long to our guest while I am absent. You can talk together of the old days.
[Going.
Margit.
[Hesitating.] Are you going? Will you not rather—?
Bengt.
[Laughing, to Gudmund, as he comes forward again.] See you well—Sir Bengt of Solhoug is the man to make the women fain of him. How short so e'er the space, my wife cannot abide to be without me. [To Margit, caressing her.] Content you; I shall soon be with you again.
[He goes out to the back.
