King Skule.
[After a short pause, half rises and looks around.] Where is he, my black comrade? [Springs up.] My guide, my guide, where are you? Gone!— No matter; now I myself know the way, both to Elgesæter and beyond.
[Goes out to the right.
The courtyard of Elgesæter Convent. To the left lies the chapel, with an entrance from the courtyard; the windows are lighted up. Along the opposite side of the space stretch some lower buildings; in the back, the convent wall with a strong gate, which is locked. It is a clear moonlight night. Three Birchleg Chiefs stand by the gate; Margrete, Lady Ragnhild, and Dagfinn the Peasant come out from the chapel.
Lady Ragnhild.
[Half to herself.] King Skule had to flee into the church, you say! He, he, a fugitive! begging at the altar for peace—begging for his life mayhap—oh no, no, that could never be; but God will punish you who dared to let it come to this!
Margrete.
My dear, dear mother, curb yourself; you know not what you say; ’tis your grief that speaks.
Lady Ragnhild.