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Örnulf.
[As if awaking.] The mound? Is it—ay, ay Sigurd. Now speak to him, Dagny. Dagny. [Approaching.] Father, it is cold out here; the storm is rising with the night. Örnulf. Nay, never heed it; the mound is close-heaped and crannyless; they lie warm in there. Dagny. Ay, but thou Örnulf. I? I am not cold. Dagny. Nought hast thou eaten to-day; wilt thou not go in? The supper-board stands ready. Örnulf. Let the supper-board stand; I have no hunger. Dagny. But to sit here so still—trust me, thou wilt take hurt of it; thou art ever wont to be stirring. Örnulf. May be so; there is somewhat that crushes my breast; I cannot draw breath. [He again hides his face in his hands. A pause. Dagny seats herself beside him.
