Ha, ha, ha! it may be that at first Gudmund will look askance at me when I take you in my arms; but that, I doubt not, he will soon get over.
Margit.
This is more than woman can bear! [Pours the contents of the phial into the goblet, goes to the window and throws out the phial, then says, without looking at him.] Your beaker is full.
Bengt.
Then bring it hither!
Margit.
[Battling in an agony of indecision, at last says.] I pray you drink no more to-night!
Bengt.
[Leans back in his chair and laughs.] Oho! You are impatient for my coming? Get you in; I will follow you soon.
Margit.