“’Twould profit you but little if you did,” answered Eline, still laughing. “I know the boy too well. He flew at you like a black-cock, I trow, the second time you were together. ’Tis pity of you too, fair child that you are.” Kristin’s cheeks grew white. Sick with loathing, she said low: “I will not speak with you—” “Think you he is like to deal with you better than with me,” went on Eline. Then Kristin answered sharply: “No blame will I ever cast on Erlend, whatever he may do. I went astray of my own will—I shall not whimper or wail if the path lead out on to the rocks—” Eline was silent for a while. Then she said unsteadily, flushing red: “_I_ was a maid too, when he came to me Kristin—even though I had been wife in name to the old man for seven years. But like enough you could never understand what the misery of that life was.” Kristin began to tremble violently. Eline looked at her. Then from her travelling-case that stood by her on the step of the bed, she took a little horn. She broke the seal that was on its mouth and said softly: “You are young and I am old, Kristin. I know well it boots not for me to strive against you—your time is now. Will you drink with me, Kristin?” Kristin did not move. Then the other raised the horn to her own lips; but Kristin marked that she did not drink. Eline said: “So much honour you sure can do me, to drink to me—and promise you will not be a hard step-mother to my children?” Kristin took the horn. At that moment Erlend opened the door. He stood a moment, looking from one to the other of the women. “What is this?” he asked. Kristin answered, and her voice was wild and piercing: “We are drinking to each other—we—your paramours—” He gripped her wrist and took the horn from her. “Be still,” he said, harshly. “You shall not drink with her.” “Why not?” cried Kristin as before. “She was pure as I was, when you tempted her—” “That hath she said so often, that I trow she is come to believe it herself,” said Erlend. “Mind you, Eline, when you made me go to Sigurd with that tale, and he brought forth witness that he had caught you before with another man?” White with loathing, Kristin turned away. Eline had flushed darkly—now she said, defiantly: “Yet will it scarce bring leprosy on the girl, if she drink with me!” Erlend turned on Eline in wrath—then of a sudden his face seemed to grow long and hard as stone, and he gasped with horror: “Jesus!” he said below his breath. He gripped Eline by the arm: “Drink to _her_ then,” he said in a harsh and quivering voice. “Drink you first; then she shall drink to you.” Eline wrenched herself away with a groan. She fled backwards through the room, the man after her. “Drink,” he said. He snatched the dagger from his belt and held it as he followed. “Drink out the drink you have brewed for Kristin!” He seized Eline’s arm again and dragged her to the table, then forced her head forward toward the horn.