The Feast at Solhoug | Page 8

and the thoughts they haunt me yet. [Stops
horror-struck.
Rings of red gold! And a belt beside--! 'Twas with gold the Hill-King
wedded his bride! [In despair; sinks down on a bench beside the table
on the left.

Woe! Woe! I myself am the Hill-King's wife! And there cometh none
to free me from the prison of my life.
[SIGNE, radiant with gladness, comes running in from the back.
SIGNE.
[Calling.] Margit, Margit,--he is coming!
MARGIT.
[Starting up.] Coming? Who is coming?
SIGNE.
Gudmund, our kinsman!
MARGIT.
Gudmund Alfson! Here! How can you think--?
SIGNE.
Oh, I am sure of it.
MARGIT.
[Crosses to the right.] Gudmund Alfson is at the wedding-feast in the
King's hall; you know that as well as I.
SIGNE.
Maybe; but none the less I am sure it was he.
MARGIT.
Have you seen him?
SIGNE.

Oh, no, no; but I must tell you--
MARGIT.
Yes, haste you--tell on!
SIGNE.
'Twas early morn, and the church bells rang, To Mass I was fain to ride;
The birds in the willows twittered and sang, In the birch-groves far and
wide. All earth was glad in the clear, sweet day; And from church it
had well-nigh stayed me; For still, as I rode down the shady way, Each
rosebud beguiled and delayed me. Silently into the church I stole; The
priest at the altar was bending; He chanted and read, and with awe in
their soul, The folk to God's word were attending. Then a voice rang
out o'er the fiord so blue; And the carven angels, the whole church
through, Turned round, methought, to listen thereto.
MARGIT.
O Signe, say on! Tell me all, tell me all!
SIGNE.
'Twas as though a strange, irresistible call Summoned me forth from
the worshipping flock, Over hill and dale, over mead and rock. 'Mid the
silver birches I listening trod, Moving as though in a dream; Behind me
stood empty the house of God; Priest and people were lured by the
magic 'twould seem, Of the tones that still through the air did stream.
No sound they made; they were quiet as death; To hearken the
song-birds held their breath, The lark dropped earthward, the cuckoo
was still, As the voice re-echoed from hill to hill.
MARGIT.
Go on.
SIGNE.

They crossed themselves, women and men; [Pressing her hands to her
breast.
But strange thoughts arose within me then; For the heavenly song
familiar grew: Gudmund oft sang it to me and you-- Ofttimes has
Gudmund carolled it, And all he e'er sang in my heart is writ.
MARGIT.
And you think that it may be--?
SIGNE.
I know it is he! I know it? I know it! You soon shall see! [Laughing.
From far-off lands, at the last, in the end, Each song-bird homeward his
flight doth bend! I am so happy--though why I scarce know--! Margit,
what say you? I'll quickly go And take down his harp, that has hung so
long In there on the wall that 'tis rusted quite; Its golden strings I will
polish bright, And tune them to ring and to sing with his song.
MARGIT. [Absently.]
Do as you will--
SIGNE. [Reproachfully.]
Nay, this in not right. [Embracing her.
But when Gudmund comes will your heart grow light-- Light, as when
I was a child, again.
MARGIT.
So much has changed--ah, so much!--since then--
SIGNE.
Margit, you shall be happy and gay! Have you not serving-maids many,

and thralls? Costly robes hang in rows on your chamber walls; How
rich you are, none can say. By day you can ride in the forest deep,
Chasing the hart and the hind; By night in a lordly bower you can sleep,
On pillows of silk reclined.
MARGIT. [Looking toward the window.]
And he comes to Solhoug! He, as a guest!
SIGNE.
What say you?
MARGIT. [Turning.]
Naught.--Deck you out in your best. That fortune which seemeth to you
so bright May await yourself.
SIGNE.
Margit, say what you mean!
MARGIT. [Stroking her hair.]
I mean--nay, no more! 'Twill shortly be seen--; I mean--should a wooer
ride hither to-night--?
SIGNE.
A wooer? For whom?
MARGIT.
For you.
SIGNE. [Laughing.]
For me? That he'd ta'en the wrong road full soon he would see.

MARGIT.
What would you say if a valiant knight Begged for your hand?
SIGNE.
That my heart was too light To think upon suitors or choose a mate.
MARGIT.
But if he were mighty, and rich, and great?
SIGNE.
O, were he a king, did his palace hold Stores of rich garments and
ruddy gold, 'Twould ne'er set my heart desiring. With you I am rich
enough here, meseeems, With summer and sun and the murmuring
streams, And the birds in the branches quiring. Dear sister mine--here
shall my dwelling be; And to give any wooer my hand