MARGIT.
Your need? You are ill to content, my friend;
Where, I would know, do you think to end?
You can dress you in velvet and cramoisie,
You stand by the throne, and have lands in fee—
GUDMUND.
Do you deem, then, that fortune is kind to me?
You said but now that full well you knew
What brought me to Solhoug—
MARGIT.
I told you true!
GUDMUND.
Then you know what of late has befallen me;—
You have heard the tale of my outlawry?
MARGIT. [Terror-struck.]
An outlaw! You, Gudmund!