For you. SIGNË. [_Laughing._] For me? That he’d ta’en the wrong road full soon he would see. MARGIT. What would you say if a valiant knight Begged for your hand? SIGNË. That my heart was too light To think upon suitors or choose a mate. MARGIT. But if he were mighty, and rich, and great? SIGNË. Oh, were he a king, did his palace hold Stores of rich garments and ruddy gold, ’Twould ne’er set my heart desiring. With you I am rich enough here, meseems, With summer and sun and the murmuring streams, And the birds in the branches quiring. Dear sister mine—here shall my dwelling be; And to give any wooer my hand in fee, For that I am too busy, and my heart too full of glee! [SIGNË _runs out to the left, singing._ MARGIT. [_After a pause._] Gudmund Alfson coming hither! Hither—to Solhoug? No, no, it cannot be.—Signë heard him singing, she said! When I have heard the pine-trees moaning in the forest afar, when I have heard the waterfall thunder and the birds pipe their lure in the treetops, it has many a time seemed to me as though, through it all, the sound of Gudmund’s songs came blended. And yet he was far from here.—Signë has deceived herself. Gudmund cannot be coming. [BENGT _enters hastily from the back._ BENGT. [_Entering, calls loudly._] An unlooked-for guest, my wife! MARGIT. What guest? BENGT. Your kinsman, Gudmund Alfson! [_Calls through the doorway on the right._] Let the best guest-room be prepared—and that forthwith! MARGIT. Is he, then, already here? BENGT. [_Looking out through the passage-way._] Nay, not yet; but he cannot be far off. [_Calls again to the right._] The carved oak bed, with the dragon-heads! [_Advances to_ MARGIT.] His shield-bearer brings a message of greeting from him; and he himself is close behind. MARGIT. His shield-bearer! Comes he hither with a shield-bearer? BENGT.