aith and troth
of an honest gentleman, 'tis beyond me to guess what more she can
desire. I am about her all day long; and no one can say of me
that I rule her harshly. All the cares of household and husbandry
I have taken on myself; yet notwithstanding-- Well, well, you
were ever a merry heart; I doubt not you will bring sunshine with
you. Hush! here comes Dame Margit! Let her not see that I--

[MARGIT enters from the left, richly dressed.

GUDMUND.

[Going to meet her.] Margit--my dear Margit!

MARGIT.

[Stops, and looks at him without recognition.] Your pardon, Sir
Knight; but--? [As though she only now recognized him.] Surely,
if I mistake not, 'tis Gudmund Alfson.

[Holding out her hand to him.

GUDMUND.

[Without taking it.] And you did not at once know me again?

BENGT.

[Laughing.] Why, Margit, of what are you thinking? I told you
but a moment agone that your kinsman--

MARGIT.

[Crossing to the table on the right.] Twelve years is a long
time, Gudmund. The freshest plant may wither ten times over in
that space.

GUDMUND.

'Tis seven years since last we met.

MARGIT.

Surely it must be more than that.

GUDMUND.

[Looking at her.] I could almost think so. But 'tis as I say.

MARGIT.

How strange! I must have been but a child then; and it seems to
me a whole eternity since I was a child. [Throws herself down on
a chair.] Well, sit you down, my kinsman! Rest you, for to-night
you shall dance, and rejoice us with your singing. [With a forced
smile.] Doubtless you know we are merry here to-day--we are
holding a feast.

GUDMUND.

'Twas told me as I entered your homestead.

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