SIGNE.
[As before, looking downwards.] You said to me this morning: if a wooer came riding hither—?
MARGIT.
That is true. [To herself.] Knut Gesling—has he already—?
[Eagerly to SIGNE.] Well? What then?
SIGNE.
[Softly, but with exultation.] The wooer has come! He has come,
Margit! I knew not then whom you meant; but now—!
MARGIT.
And what have you answered him?
SIGNE.
Oh, how should I know? [Flinging her arms round her sister's neck.] But the world seems to me so rich and beautiful since the moment when he told me that he held me dear.