Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/290

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
242
THE FEAST AT SOLHOUG.
[ACT II.

The phial—doth a secret draught contain;
A drop of this in my—enemy's cup,
And his life would sicken and wither up;
The leech's skill would be tried in vain.

[Again a silence.

Were I sure that Gudmund—held me dear—
Then little I'd care for—

[Gudmund enters from the house.

Gudmund.

You, Margit, here?

And alone? I have sought you everywhere.

Margit.

'Tis cool here. I sickened of heat and glare.
See you how yonder the white mists glide
Softly over the marshes wide?
Here it is neither dark nor light,
But midway between them—

[To herself.

—as in my breast.

[Looking at him.

Is't not so—when you wander on such a night
You hear, though but half to yourself confessed,
A stirring of secret life through the hush,
In tree and in leaf, in flower and in rush?

[With a sudden change of tone.

Can you guess what I wish?

Gudmund.

Well?