the window a table, on which is a quantity of feminine ornaments. Along the left wall, a longer table with silver goblets and drinking-horns. The door in the back leads out to a passage-way,* through which can be seen a spacious fiord-landscape.

BENGT GAUTESON, MARGIT, KNUT GESLING and ERIK OF HEGGE are seated around the table on the left. In the background are KNUT's followers, some seated, some standing; one or two flagons of ale are handed round among them. Far off are heard church bells, ringing to Mass.

*This no doubt means a sort of arcaded veranda running along the outer wall of the house.

ERIK.

[Rising at the table.] In one word, now, what answer have you to make to my wooing on Knut Gesling's behalf?

BENGT.

[Glancing uneasily towards his wife.] Well, I—to me it seems— [As she remains silent.] H'm, Margit, let us first hear your thought in the matter.

MARGIT.

[Rising.] Sir Knut Gesling, I have long known all that Erik of Hegge has told of you. I know full well that you come of a lordly house; you are rich in gold and gear, and you stand in high favour with our royal master.

BENGT.

[To KNUT.] In high favour—so say I too.

MARGIT.

And doubtless my sister could choose her no doughtier mate—

BENGT.

None doughtier; that is what I say too.

MARGIT.

—If so be that you can win her to think kindly of you.

BENGT.

[Anxiously, and half aside.] Nay—nay, my dear wife—

KNUT.

[Springing up.] Stands it so, Dame Margit! You think that your sister—

BENGT.

[Seeking to calm him.] Nay, nay, Knut Gesling! Have patience, now. You must understand us aright.

MARGIT.

There is naught in my words to wound you. My sister knows you only by the songs that are made about you—and these songs sound but ill in gentle ears.

  No peaceful home is your father's house.
    With your lawless, reckless crew,
  Day out, day in, must you hold carouse—
    God help her who mates with you.
  God help the maiden you lure or buy
    With gold and with forests green—
  Soon will her sore heart long to lie
    Still in the grave, I ween.

ERIK.

Aye, aye—true enough—Knut Gesling lives not overpeaceably. But there will soon come a change in that, when he gets him a wife in his hall.

KNUT.

And this I would have you mark, Dame Margit: it may be a week since, I was at a feast at Hegge, at Erik's bidding, whom here you see. I vowed a vow that Signe, your fair sister, should be my wife, and that before the year was out. Never shall it be said of Knut Gesling that he brake any vow. You can see, then, that you must e'en choose me for your sister's husband—be it with your will or against it.

MARGIT.

Ere that may be, I must tell you plain,
You must rid yourself of your ravening train.
You must scour no longer with yell and shout
O'er the country-side in a galloping rout;
You must still the shudder that spreads around
When Knut Gesling is to a bride-ale bound.
Courteous must your mien be when a-feasting you ride;
Let your battle-axe hang at home at the chimney-side—
It ever sits loose in your hand, well you know,
When the mead has gone round and your brain is aglow.
From no man his rightful gear shall you wrest,
You shall harm no harmless maiden;
You shall send no man the shameless hest
That when his path crosses yours, he were best
Come with his grave-clothes laden.
And if you will so bear you till the year be past,
You may win my sister for your bride at last.

KNUT.

[With suppressed rage.] You know how to order your words cunningly, Dame Margit. Truly, you should have been a priest, and not your husbands wife.

BENGT.

Oh, for that matter, I too could—

KNUT.

[Paying no heed to him.] But I would have you take note that had a sword-bearing man spoken to me in such wise—

BENGT.

Nay, but listen, Knut Gesling—you must understand us!

KNUT.

[As before.] Well, briefly, he should have learnt that the axe sits loose in my hand, as you said but now.

BENGT.

[Softly.] There we have it! Margit, Margit, this will never end well.

MARGIT.

[To KNUT.] You asked for a forthright answer, and that I have given you.

KNUT.

Well, well; I will not reckon too closely with you, Dame Margit. You have more wit than all the rest of us together. Here is my hand;—it may be there was somewhat of reason in the keen-edged words you spoke to me.

MARGIT.

This I like well; now are you already on the right way to amendment. Yet one word more—to-day we hold a feast at Solhoug.

KNUT.

A feast?

BENGT.

Yes, Knut Gesling: you must know that it is our wedding day; this day three years ago made me Dame Margit's husband.

MARGIT.

[Impatiently, interrupting.] As I said, we hold a feast to-day. When Mass is over, and your other business done, I would have you ride hither again, and join in the banquet. Then you can learn to know my sister.

KNUT.

So be it, Dame Margit; I thank you. Yet 'twas not to go to Mass that I rode hither this morning. Your kinsman, Gudmund Alfson, was the cause of my coming.

MARGIT.

[Starts.] He! My kinsman? Where would you seek him?

KNUT.

His homestead lies behind the headland, on the other side of the fiord.

MARGIT.

But he himself is far away.

ERIK.

Be not so sure; he may be nearer than you think.

KNUT.

[Whispers.] Hold your