DAGNY. Thorolf! All good powers!—thou art a man, grown!
THOROLF. That may I well be, forsooth, in five years——
DAGNY. Ay, true, true.
SIGURD (giving his his hand). In thee will Ornulf find a stout carl, or I mistake me.
THOROLF. Would he but prove me——!
DAGNY (smiling). He spares thee more than thou hast a mind to? Thou wast ever well-nigh too dear to him.
SIGURD. Whither has he gone?
THOROLF. Down to his ships;—he will return ere long.
SIGURD. I await my men; they are mooring my ships and bringing ashore wares.
THOROLF. There must I lend a hand!