Margrete.
Lord of heaven, give me strength!
King Skule.
Could you, Margrete?
Margrete.
[Softly and shuddering.] No, no—we should have to part,—I could never see him more!
King Skule.
You would darken the fairest light of his life and of yours;—be at peace, Margrete,—it shall not be needful.
Lady Ragnhild.
Flee from the land, Skule; I will follow you whithersoever you will.