this summer day; and how light it is in here! So sweetly has the sun not shone for three long years.
[Signë, and after her Gudmund, enters from the left.
Signë.
[Runs laughing up to Margit.]
Ha, ha, ha! He will not believe that 'tis I!
Margit.
[Smiling, to Gudmund.]
You see: while in far-off lands you strayed,
She, too, has altered, the little maid.
Gudmund.
Aye truly! But that she should be—Why,
'Tis a marvel in very deed.
[Takes both Signë's hands and looks at her.
Yet, when I look in these eyes so blue,
The innocent child-mind I still can read—
Yes, Signë, I know that 'tis you!
I needs must laugh when I think how oft
I have thought of you perched on my shoulder aloft
As you used to ride. You were then a child;
Now you are a nixie, spell-weaving, wild.
Signë.
[Threatening with her finger.]
Beware! If the nixie's ire you awaken,
Soon in her nets you will find yourself taken.
