[Softly, half bewildered.] Signe!
GUDMUND.
[As before, to KNUT.] What mean you by that?
KNUT.
I mean that 'tis Signe whom I--
GUDMUND.
Signe! Signe is my betrothed in the sight of God.
MARGIT.
[With a cry.] It was she! No--no!
GUDMUND.
[To himself, as he catches sight of her.] Margit! She has
heard everything.
KNUT.
Ho, ho! So this is how it stands? Nay, Dame Margit, 'tis needless
to put on such an air of wonder; now I understand everything.
MARGIT.
[To SIGNE.] But not a moment ago you said--? [Suddenly grasping
the situation.] 'Twas Gudmund you meant!
SIGNE.
[Astonished.] Yes, did you not know it! But what ails
you, Margit?
MARGIT.
[In an almost toneless voice.] Nay, nothing, nothing.
KNUT.
[To MARGIT.] And this morning, when you made me give my word
that I would stir no strife here to-night--you already knew that
Gudmund Alfson was coming. Ha, ha, think not that you can hoodwink
Knut Gesling! Signe has become dear to me. Even this morning
'twas but my hasty vow that drove me to seek her hand; but now--
SIGNE.
[To MARGIT.] He? Was this the wooer that was in your mind?
MARGIT.
Hush, hush!
KNUT.
[Firmly and harshly.] Dame Margit--you are her elder sister; you
shall give me an answer.
MARGIT.
[Battling with herself.] Signe has already made her choice;--I
have naught to answer.
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