SIGNE. [Bursts into tears.]
Farewell, my poor sister! Like my mother tender
Thou hast guarded the ways my feet have trod,
Hast guided my footsteps, aye praying to God,
The Almighty, to be my defender.--
Gudmund--here is a goblet filled with mead;
Let us drink to her; let us wish that ere long
Her soul may again be calm and strong,
And that God may be good to her need.
[She takes the goblet into her hands.
GUDMUND.
Aye, let us drain it, naming her name!
[Starts.
Stop!
[Takes the goblet from her.
For meseems it is the same--
SIGNE.
'Tis Margit's beaker.
GUDMUND. [Examining it carefully.]
By Heaven, 'tis so!
I mind me still of the red wine's glow
As she drank from it on the day we parted
To our meeting again in health and glad-hearted.
To herself that draught betided woe.
No, Signe, ne'er drink wine or mead
From that goblet.
[Pours its contents out at the window.
We must away with all speed.
[Tumult and calls without, at the back.
SIGNE.
List, Gudmund! Voices and trampling feet!
GUDMUND.
Knut Gesling's voice!
SIGNE.
O save us, Lord!
GUDMUND. [Places himself in front of her.]
Nay, nay, fear nothing, Signe sweet--
I am here, and my good sword.
[MARGIT comes in in haste from the left.
MARGIT.
[Listening to the noise.] What means this? Is my husband--?
GUDMUND AND SIGNE.
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