For meseems it is the same—­

SIGNE.

’Tis Margit’s beaker.

GUDMUND. [Examining it carefully.]

          By Heaven, ’tis so! 

I mind me still of the red wine’s glow
As she drank from it on the day we parted
To our meeting again in health and glad-hearted. 
To herself that draught betided woe. 
No, Signe, ne’er drink wine or mead
From that goblet.
     [Pours its contents out at the window.

We must away with all speed.

[Tumult and calls without, at the back.

SIGNE.

List, Gudmund!  Voices and trampling feet!

GUDMUND.

Knut Gesling’s voice!

SIGNE.

O save us, Lord!

GUDMUND. [Places himself in front of her.]

Nay, nay, fear nothing, Signe sweet—­
I am here, and my good sword.

[MARGIT comes in in haste from the left.

MARGIT.

  [Listening to the noise.] What means this?  Is my husband—?

GUDMUND AND SIGNE.

  Margit!

MARGIT.

  [Catches sight of them.] Gudmund!  And Signe!  Are you here?

SIGNE.

  [Going towards her.] Margit—­dear sister!

MARGIT.

[Appalled, having seen the goblet which GUDMUND still holds in his hand.] The goblet!  Who has drunk from it?

GUDMUND.

  [Confused.] Drunk—?  I and Signe—­we meant—­

MARGIT.

  [Screams.] O God, have mercy!  Help!  Help!  They will die!

GUDMUND.

  [Setting down the goblet.] Margit—!

SIGNE.

  What ails you, sister?

MARGIT.

  [Towards the back.] Help, help!  Will no one help?

     [A HOUSE-CARL rushes in from the passage-way.

HOUSE-CARL.

  [Calls in a terrified voice.] Lady Margit!  Your husband—!

MARGIT.

  He—­has he, too, drunk—!

GUDMUND.

  [To himself.] Ah! now I understand—­

HOUSE-CARL.

  Knut Gesling has slain him.

SIGNE.

  Slain!

GUDMUND.

[Drawing his sword.] Not yet, I hope. [Whispers to MARGIT.] Fear not.  No one has drunk from your goblet.