I mean that ’tis Signë whom I—
Gudmund.
Signë! Signë is my betrothed in the sight of God.
Margit.
[With a cry.] It was she! No—no!
Gudmund.
[To himself, as he catches sight of her.] Margit! She has heard everything.
Knut.
Ho, ho! So this is how it stands? Nay, Dame Margit, ’tis needless to put on such an air of wonder; now I understand everything.
Margit.