For that I am too busy, and my heart too full of glee!
[Signë runs out to the left, singing.
Margit.
[After a pause.] Gudmund Alfson coming hither! Hither—to Solhoug? No, no, it cannot be.—Signë heard him singing, she said! When I have heard the pine-trees moaning in the forest afar, when I have heard the waterfall thunder and the birds pipe their lure in the treetops, it has many a time seemed to me as though, through it all, the sound of Gudmund’s songs came blended. And yet he was far from here.—Signë has deceived herself. Gudmund cannot be coming.
[Bengt enters hastily from the back.
Bengt.
[Entering, calls loudly.] An unlooked-for guest, my wife!
Margit.
What guest?
Bengt.