Gudmund Alfson! Here! How can you think—?
Signë.
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.
Signë.
Maybe; but none the less I am sure it was he.
Margit.
Have you seen him?
Signë.