“Oh, my Kristin—now at last it looks as if bright days might come for us two. Methinks I had never dealt with you as I have done,” he said stroking and stroking her hair, “had it not been that each time I saw you, I thought ever ’twas not reason that they should give so fine and fair a wife to _me_.—Sit you down here and drink to me,” he begged. * * * * * A moment after came a knock on the door—it sounded like the stroke of a sword hilt. “Open, Erlend Nikulaussön, if you are within.” “’Tis Simon Darre,” said Kristin in a low voice. “Open, man, in the devil’s name—if you be a man!” shouted Simon and beat on the door again. Erlend went to the bed and took his sword down from the peg in the wall. He looked round, at a loss what to do: “There is nowhere here you can hide—” “’Twould scarce make things better if I hid,” said Kristin. She had risen to her feet; she spoke very quietly, but Erlend saw that she was trembling. “You must open,” she said in the same tone. Simon hammered on the door again. Erlend went and drew the bolt. Simon stepped in; he had a drawn sword in his hand, but he thrust it back into its sheath at once. For a while the three stood in silence. Kristin trembled; but yet, in this first moment, she felt a strange, sweet thrill—from deep within her something rose, scenting the combat between two men—she drew a deep breath; here was an end to these endless months of dumb waiting and longing and dread. She looked from one to the other, pale and with shining eyes—then the strain within her broke in a chill, unfathomable despair. There was more of cold scorn than of rage or jealousy in Simon Darre’s eyes and she saw that Erlend, behind his defiant bearing, burned with shame. It dawned upon her, how other men would think of him, who had let her come to him in such a place, and she saw ’twas as though he had had to suffer a blow in the face; she knew he burned to draw his sword and fall upon Simon. “Why have you come hither, Simon?” she cried aloud in dread. Both men turned toward her. “To fetch you home,” said Simon. “Here you cannot be—” “’Tis not for you, any more, to lay commands on Kristin Lavransdatter,” said Erlend fiercely, “she is mine now—” “I doubt not she is,” said Simon savagely, “and a fair bridal bower have you brought her to—” He stood a little, panting; then he mastered his voice and spoke quietly: “But so it is that I am her betrothed still—till her father can come for her. And for so long I mean to guard with edge and point so much of her honour as can be saved—in others’ eyes—” “What need of _you_ to guard her; I can—” he flushed red as blood under Simon’s eyes. Then, flying out: “Think you I will suffer threats from a boy like you,” he cried, laying his hand on his sword-hilt. Simon clapped both hands behind him.