The Feast at Solhoug

by Henrik Ibsen

MARGIT.

[Battling with herself.] Signe has already made her choice;—I have naught to answer.

KNUT.

Good; then I have nothing more to do at Solhoug. But after midnight—mark you this—the day is at an end; then you may chance to see me again, and then Fortune must decide whether it be Gudmund or I that shall bear Signe away from this house.

GUDMUND.

Aye, try if you dare; it shall cost you a bloody sconce.

SIGNE.

[In terror.] Gudmund! By all the saints—!

KNUT.

Gently, gently, Gudmund Alfson! Ere sunrise you shall be in my power. And she—your lady-love— [Goes up to the door, beckons and calls in a low voice.] Erik! Erik! come hither! we must away to our kinsfolk. [Threateningly, while ERIK shows himself in the doorway.] Woe upon you all when I come again!