Elina.
Come, Biörn, tell me one of your stories; I know you can tell others than those that-—-
Biörn.
A story? Now—so late in the evening——?
Elina.
If you count from the time when it grew dark at Östråt, then ’tis late indeed.
Biörn.
What ails you? Has aught crossed you? You seem so restless.
Elina.
May be so.