VALGERD. Can you forget the friend of your childhood from whom your father tore you to save you from the white Christ?
GUNLÖD [in desperation]. Yes, yes!
VALGERD. You are weeping.
GUNLÖD [Disturbed]. Some one is walking out there. Perhaps father is coming home.
VALGERD. Will you bear in mind every day without tears that we now dwell in the land of ice—fugitives from the kingdom of Svea and hated here by the Christ-men? But we have suffered no loss of greatness, although we have not been baptized and kissed the bishop's hand. Have you ever spoken to any of the Christians since we have been here?
GUNLÖD [After a pause]. No. Tell me, mother, is it true that father is to be Erl here in Iceland, too?
VALGERD. Don't let that trouble you, child.
GUNLÖD. Then I'm afraid he will fare badly with the Christians.
VALGERD. You fear that?
GUNLÖD. Some one is out there.