lence; she takes out the little phial, looks long
at it and says under her breath:

This phial--were I its powers to try--
My husband would sleep for ever and aye!
[Horror-struck.

No, no! To the river's depths with it straight!
[In the act of throwing it out of the window, stops.

And yet I could--'tis not yet too late.--
[With an expression of mingled horror and rapture, whispers.

With what a magic resistless might
Sin masters us in our own despite!
Doubly alluring methinks is the goal
I must reach through blood, with the wreck of my soul.

[BENGT, with the empty beaker in his hand, comes in from
the passageway; his face is red; he staggers slightly.

BENGT.

[Flinging the beaker upon the table on the left.] My faith,
this has been a feast that will be the talk of the country. [Sees
MARGIT.] Eh, are you there? You are well again. Good, good.

MARGIT.

[Who in the meantime has concealed the phial.] Is the door
barred?

BENGT.

[Seating himself at the table on the left.] I have seen to
everything. I went with the last guests as far as the gates. But
what became of Knut Gesling to-night?--Give me mead, Margit! I
am thirsty Fill this cup.

[MARGIT fetches a flagon of the mead from a cupboard, and
and fills the goblet which is on the table before him.

MARGIT.

[Crossing to the right with the flagon.] You asked about
Knut Gesling.

BENGT.

That I did. The boaster, the braggart! I have not forgot his
threats of yester-morning.

MARGIT.

He used worse words when he left to-night.

BENGT.

He did? So much the better. I will strike him dead.

MARGIT.

[Smiling contemptuously.] H'm--

BENGT.

I will kill him, I say! I fear not to face ten such fellows as
he. In the store-house hangs my grandfather's axe; its shaft is
inlaid with silver; with that axe in my hands, I tell you--!
[Thumps the table and drinks.] To-morrow I shall arm myself, go
forth with all my men, and slay Knut Gesling.

[Empties the beaker.

MARGIT.

[To herself.] Oh, to have to live with him!

[Is in the act of leaving the room.

BENGT.

Margit, come here! Fill my cup again. [She approaches; he
tries to draw her down on his knee.] Ha, ha, ha! You are right
fair, Margit! I love thee well!

MARGIT.

[Freeing herself.] Let me go!

[Crosses, with the goblet in her hand, to the