It seems That I, too, have lived in a world of dreams. But the strange deep words you to-night have spoken, Of the power of love, have my slumber broken. The heavens seemed never so blue to me, Never the world so fair; I can understand, as I roam with thee, The song of the birds in air. GUDMUND. So mighty is love—it stirs in the breast Thoughts and longings and happy unrest. But come, let us both to your sister go. SIGNË. Would you tell her—? GUDMUND. Everything she must know. SIGNË. Then go you alone;—I feel that my cheek Would be hot with blushes to hear you speak. GUDMUND. So be it, I go. SIGNË. And here will I bide; [_Listening towards the right._ Or better—down by the riverside, I hear Knut Gesling, with maidens and men. GUDMUND. There will you stay? SIGNË. Till you come again. [_She goes out to the right._ GUDMUND _goes into the house._ [MARGIT _enters from behind the house on the left._ MARGIT. In the hall there is gladness and revelry; The dancers foot it with jest and glee. The air weighed hot on my brow and breast; For Gudmund, he was not there. [_She draws a deep breath._ Out here ’tis better: here’s quiet and rest. How sweet is the cool night air! [_A brooding silence._ That horrible thought! Oh, why should it be That wherever I go it follows me? 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—