Gudmund.
[In a low voice, imploringly.] Margit!
Margit.
Why, what a pitiful countenance you put on! Be merry, Gudmund! Be merry! Aye, aye, it comes easy to you, well I wot. [Laughing, to the Guests.] He has seen the huldra to-night. She would fain have tempted him; but Gudmund is a faithful swain. [Turns again to Gudmund.] Aye, but the tale is not finished yet. When you bear away your lady-love, over hill and through forest, be sure you turn not round; be sure you never look back—the huldra sits laughing behind every bush; and when all is done—[In a low voice, coming close up to him]—you will go no further than she will let you. [She crosses to the right.]
Signë.
Oh, God! Oh, God!
Bengt.
[Going around among the Guests in high contentment.] Ha, ha, ha! Dame Margit knows how to set the mirth afoot! When she takes it in hand, she does it much better than I.
Gudmund.
[To himself.] She threatens! I must tear the last hope out of her breast; else will peace never come to her mind. [Turns to the Guests.]
