Signë—you are still a child; you know not what it means to have ever in your heart the dread of—[_Suddenly breaking off._] Think, Signë, what it must be to wither and die without ever having lived. SIGNË. [_Looks at her in astonishment, and shakes her head._] Nay, but, Margit—? MARGIT. Aye, aye, you do not understand, but none the less— [_They go up again, talking to each other._ GUDMUND _and_ KNUT _come down on the other side._ GUDMUND. Well, if so it be—if this wild life no longer contents you—then I will give you the best counsel that ever friend gave to friend: take to wife an honourable maiden. KNUT. Say you so? And if I now told you that ’tis even that I have in mind? GUDMUND. Good luck and happiness to you then, Knut Gesling! And now you must know that I too— KNUT. You? Are you, too, so purposed? GUDMUND. Aye, truly. But the King’s wrath;—I am a banished man— KNUT. Nay, to that you need give but little thought. As yet there is no one here, save Dame Margit, that knows aught of the matter; and so long as I am your friend, you have one in whom you can trust securely. Now I must tell you— [_He proceeds in a whisper as they go up again._ SIGNË. [_As she and_ MARGIT _again advance._] But tell me then, Margit—! MARGIT. More I dare not tell you. SIGNË. Then will I be more open-hearted than you. But first answer me one question. [_Bashfully, with hesitation._] Is there—is there no one who has told you anything concerning me? MARGIT. Concerning you? Nay, what should that be? SIGNË. [_As before, looking downwards._] You said to me this morning: if a wooer came riding hither—? MARGIT. That is true. [_To herself._] Knut Gesling—has he already—? [_Eagerly, to_ SIGNË.] Well? What then? SIGNË. [_Softly, but with exultation._] The wooer has come! He has come, Margit! I knew not then whom you meant; but now—! MARGIT. And what have you answered him? SIGNË.