goes climbing, hand in hand.
God’s angel-babes are watching
thy cot, the still night through;
God bless thee, little Håkon,
thy mother watcheth too.
A short pause. Duke Skule enters from the back.
Margrete.
[Starts up with a cry of joy and rushes to meet him.] My father!—Oh, how I have sighed and yearned for this meeting!
Duke Skule.
God’s peace be with you, Margrete! Where is the King?