A stately room, with doors in the back and to both sides. In front
on the right, a bay window with small round panes, set in lead,
and near 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 chan