The hall at Solhoug as before, but now in disorder after the feast. It is night still, but with a glimmer of approaching dawn in the room and over the landscape without.
Bengt stands outside in the passage-way, with a beaker of ale in his hand. A party of Guests are in the act of leaving the house. In the room a Maid-Servant is restoring order.
Bengt.
[Calls to the departing Guests.] God speed you, then, and bring you back ere long to Solhoug. Methinks you, like the rest, might have stayed and slept till morning. Well, well! Yet hold—I'll e'en go with you to the gate. I must drink your healths once more.
[He goes out.
Guests.
[Sing in the distance.]
Farewell, and God's blessing on one and all
Beneath this roof abiding!
The road must be faced. To the fiddler we call:
Tune up! Our cares deriding,
With dance and with song
We'll shorten the way so weary and long.
Right merrily off we go.
[The song dies away in the distance.
[Margit enters the hall by the door on the right.
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