[ACT II.
THE FEAST AT SOLHOUG.
261
Bengt.
[Making eyes at Margit.] Yes, I have mine, that is sure enough. Ha, ha, ha!
Margit.
[To herself, quivering.] To have to suffer all this shame and scorn! No, no; now to essay the last remedy!
Bengt.
What ails you? Meseems you look so pale.
Margit.
'Twill soon pass over. [Turns to the Guests.] Did I say e'en now that I had forgotten all my tales? I bethink me now that I remember one.
Bengt.
Good, good, my wife! Come, let us hear it.
Young Girls.
[Urgently.] Yes, tell it us, tell it us, Dame Margit!
Margit.
I almost fear that 'twill little please you; but that must be as it may.
Gudmund.
[To himself.] Saints in heaven, surely she would not—!
