Ay, see!—He folds his hands before him on his sword-hilt and rests his chin upon them.
Lady Ragnhild.
He bites his beard and laughs——
Margrete.
’Tis an evil laugh.
Lady Ragnhild.
He knows that none will further his cause;—’tis that which makes him wroth. Who is yonder thane that speaks now?
Margrete.
That is Gunnar Grionbak.
Lady Ragnhild.