The Feast at Solhoug | Page 7

seem; but keep your counsel. [Aloud.] Well, well,
Dame Margit, I must go my way none the less, and see what may
betide. At nightfall I will be here again.
MARGIT.
And then you must show whether you have power to bridle your unruly
spirit.
BENGT.
Aye, mark you that.
MARGIT.
You must lay no hand on your axe--hear you, Knut Gesling?
BENGT.
Neither on your axe, nor on your knife, nor on any other weapon
whatsoever.
MARGIT.
For then can you never hope to be one of our kindred.
BENGT.
Nay, that is our firm resolve.
KNUT.
[To MARGIT.] Have no fear.
BENGT.

And what we have firmly resolved stands fast.
KNUT.
That I like well, Sir Bengt Gauteson. I, too, say the same; and I have
pledged myself at the feast-board to wed your kinswoman. You may be
sure that my pledge, too, will stand fast.--God's peace till to-night!
[He and ERIK, with their men, go out at the back. [BENGT
accompanies them to the door. The sound of the bells has in the
meantime ceased.
BENGT.
[Returning.] Methought he seemed to threaten us as he departed.
MARGIT.
[Absently.] Aye, so it seemed.
BENGT.
Knut Gesling is an ill man to fall out with. And when I bethink me, we
gave him over many hard words. But come, let us not brood over that.
To-day we must be merry, Margit!--as I trow we have both good reason
to be.
MARGIT.
[With a weary smile.] Aye, surely, surely.
BENGT.
Tis true I was no mere stripling when I courted you. But well I wot I
was the richest man for many and many a mile. You were a fair maiden,
and nobly born; but your dowry would have tempted no wooer.
MARGIT.

[To herself.] Yet was I then so rich.
BENGT.
What said you, my wife?
MARGIT.
Oh, nothing, nothing. [Crosses to the right.] I will deck me with pearls
and rings. Is not to-night a time of rejoicing for me?
BENGT.
I am fain to hear you say it. Let me see that you deck you in your best
attire, that our guests may say: Happy she who mated with Bengt
Gauteson.--But now must I to the larder; there are many things to-day
that must not be over-looked.
[He goes out to the left.
MARGIT. [Sinks down on a chair by the table on the right.]
'Twas well he departed. While here he remains Meseems the blood
freezes within my veins; Meseems that a crushing mighty and cold My
heart in its clutches doth still enfold. [With tears she cannot repress.
He is my husband! I am his wife! How long, how long lasts a woman's
life? Sixty years, mayhap--God pity me Who am not yet full
twenty-three! [More calmly after a short silence.
Hard, so long in a gilded cage to pine; Hard a hopeless prisoner's
lot--and mine. [Absently fingering the ornaments on the table, and
beginning to put them on.
With rings, and with jewels, and all of my best By his order myself I
am decking-- But oh, if to-day were my burial-feast, 'Twere little that
I'd be recking. [Breaking off.
But if thus I brood I must needs despair; I know a song that can lighten

care. [She sings.
The Hill-King to the sea did ride; --Oh, sad are my days and dreary--
To woo a maiden to be his bride. --I am waiting for thee, I am weary.--
The Hill-King rode to Sir Hakon's hold; --Oh, sad are my days and
dreary-- Little Kirsten sat combing her locks of gold. --I am waiting for
thee, I am weary.--
The Hill-King wedded the maiden fair; --Oh, sad are my days and
dreary-- A silvern girdle she ever must wear. --I am waiting for thee, I
am weary.--
The Hill-King wedded the lily-wand, --Oh, sad are my days and
dreary-- With fifteen gold rings on either hand. --I am waiting for thee,
I am weary.--
Three summers passed, and there passed full five; --Oh, sad are my
days and dreary-- In the hill little Kirsten was buried alive. --I am
waiting for thee, I am weary.--
Five summers passed, and there passed full nine; --Oh, sad are my days
and dreary-- Little Kirsten ne'er saw the glad sunshine. --I am waiting
for thee, I am weary.--
In the dale there are flowers and the birds' blithe song; --Oh, sad are my
days and dreary-- In the hill there is gold and the night is long. --I am
waiting for thee, I am weary.-- [She rises and crosses the room.
How oft in the gloaming would Gudmund sing This song in may
father's hall. There was somewhat in it--some strange, sad thing That
took my heart in thrall; Though I scarce understood, I could ne'er
forget-- And the words