_The hall at Solhoug as before, but now in disorder after the feast. It is night still, but with a glimmer of approaching dawn in the room and over the landscape without._ BENGT _stands outside in the passage-way, with a beaker of ale in his hand. A party of_ GUESTS _are in the act of leaving the house. In the room a_ MAID-SERVANT _is restoring order._ BENGT. [_Calls to the departing_ GUESTS.] God speed you, then, and bring you back ere long to Solhoug. Methinks you, like the rest, might have stayed and slept till morning. Well, well! Yet hold—I’ll e’en go with you to the gate. I must drink your healths once more. [_He goes out._ GUESTS. [_Sing in the distance._] Farewell, and God’s blessing on one and all Beneath this roof abiding! The road must be faced. To the fiddler we call: Tune up! Our cares deriding, With dance and with song We’ll shorten the way so weary and long. Right merrily off we go. [_The song dies away in the distance._ [MARGIT _enters the hall by the door on the right._ MAID. God save us, my lady, have you left your bed? MARGIT. I am well. Go you and sleep. Stay—tell me, are the guests all gone? MAID. No, not all; some wait till later in the day; ere now they are sleeping sound. MARGIT. And Gudmund Alfson—? MAID. He, too, is doubtless asleep. [_Points to the right._] ’Tis some time since he went to his chamber—yonder, across the passage. MARGIT. Good; you may go. [_The_ MAID _goes out to the left._ [MARGIT _walks slowly across the hall, seats herself by the table on the right, and gazes out at the open window._ MARGIT. To-morrow, then, Gudmund will ride away Out into the world so great and wide. Alone with my husband here I must stay; And well do I know what will then betide. Like the broken branch and the trampled flower I shall suffer and fade from hour to hour. [_Short pause; she leans back in her chair._