THORDIS Arfi! The sacred pool?
ARFI The pool of Freyja—there! The wood-folk call it Her mirror, for they say that once i’ the year, Ever at May-day, the fresh goddess comes To sit beside it with her elves, whilst they Comb her bright hair.
THORDIS And then she peers within it?
ARFI As you do now.—Sweetest, good-bye!
THORDIS Good-bye? But where are you going?
ARFI The wood pathway to heaven. I’m going to hasten that laggard priest, your father, To make him make you mine.
EGIL Stop! You’re alone.
ARFI Well?
EGIL [Embarrassed.] Will it be now?
ARFI Am I not written large With bridal runes? Hang not these garlands thick As invocations from an inn-house gable? “Here light ye down, fair guests! Light down, light down, Dear lady, at the sign of the ‘Green Bridegroom!’”— Farewell, sweetheart. This day is clothed in green For joy. I will return with Ingimund As swift as longing.