Beware!  If the nixie’s ire you awaken,
Soon in her nets you will find yourself taken.

GUDMUND. [To himself.]

I am snared already, it seems to me.

SIGNE.

But, Gudmund, wait—­you have still to see
How I’ve shielded your harp from the dust and the rust.
      [As she goes out to the left.

You shall teach me all of your songs!  You must!

GUDMUND. [Softly, as he follows her with his eyes.]

She has flushed to the loveliest rose of May,
That was yet but a bud in the morning’s ray.

SIGNE. [Returning with the harp.]

Behold!

GUDMUND. [Taking it.]

         My harp!  As bright as of yore!
     [Striking one or two chords.

Still the old chords ring sweet and clear—­
On the wall, untouched, thou shalt hang no more.

MARGIT. [Looking out at the back.]

Our guests are coming.

SIGNE. [While GUDMUND preludes his song.]

Hush—­hush!  Oh, hear!

GUDMUND. [Sings.]

I roamed through the uplands so heavy of cheer;
The little birds quavered in bush and in brere;
The little birds quavered, around and above: 
Wouldst know of the sowing and growing of love?

It grows like the oak tree through slow-rolling years;
’Tis nourished by dreams, and by songs, and by tears;
But swiftly ’tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye.

     [As he strikes the concluding chords, he goes towards the
       back where he lays down his harp.

SIGNE. [Thoughtfully, repeats to herself.]

But swiftly ’tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye.

MARGIT.

  [Absently.] Did you speak to me?—­I heard not clearly—?

SIGNE.

  I?  No, no.  I only meant—­

     [She again becomes absorbed in dreams.

MARGIT. [Half aloud; looking straight before her.]

It grows like the oak tree through slow-rolling years;
’Tis nourished by dreams, and by songs and by tears.

SIGNE.

  [Returning to herself.] You said that—?

MARGIT.

[Drawing her hand over her brow.] Nay, ’twas nothing.  Come, we must go meet our guests.

     [BENGT enters with many GUESTS, both men and women,
       through the passageway.

GUESTS.

    With song and harping enter we
        The feast-hall opened wide;
    Peace to our hostess kind and free,
        All happiness to her betide. 
    O’er Solhoug’s roof for ever may
        Bright as to-day
        The heavens abide.