Thorolf.
Of what report dost thou speak?
Hiördis.
[Smiling.] I dare not name it, for it would make thee wroth.
Thorolf.
Then hold thy peace—I ask no better.
[Turns from her.
Hiördis.
Nay, why should I not tell it? Is it true, Thorolf, that for three nights thy father sat in woman’s weed, doing sorceries with the witch of Smalserhorn, ere he dared face Jökul in fight?
[All rise; violent excitement among the guests.