For meseems it is the same—
’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.
List, Gudmund! Voices and trampling feet!
Knut Gesling’s voice!
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.
[Listening to the noise.] What means this? Is my husband—?
GUDMUND AND SIGNE.
[Catches sight of them.] Gudmund! And Signe! Are you here?
[Going towards her.] Margit—dear sister!
[Appalled, having seen the goblet which GUDMUND still holds in his hand.] The goblet! Who has drunk from it?
[Confused.] Drunk—? I and Signe—we meant—
[Screams.] O God, have mercy! Help! Help! They will die!
[Setting down the goblet.] Margit—!
What ails you, sister?
[Towards the back.] Help, help! Will no one help?
[A HOUSE-CARL rushes in from the passage-way.
[Calls in a terrified voice.] Lady Margit! Your husband—!
He—has he, too, drunk—!
[To himself.] Ah! now I understand—
Knut Gesling has slain him.
[Drawing his sword.] Not yet, I hope. [Whispers to MARGIT.] Fear not. No one has drunk from your goblet.