The Feast at Solhoug eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 70 pages of information about The Feast at Solhoug.

The Feast at Solhoug eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 70 pages of information about The Feast at Solhoug.

And yet I could—­’tis not yet too late.—­
     [With an expression of mingled horror and rapture, whispers.

With what a magic resistless might
Sin masters us in our own despite! 
Doubly alluring methinks is the goal
I must reach through blood, with the wreck of my soul.

     [BENGT, with the empty beaker in his hand, comes in from
       the passageway; his face is red; he staggers slightly.

BENGT.

[Flinging the beaker upon the table on the left.] My faith, this has been a feast that will be the talk of the country. [Sees MARGIT.] Eh, are you there?  You are well again.  Good, good.

MARGIT.

[Who in the meantime has concealed the phial.] Is the door barred?

BENGT.

[Seating himself at the table on the left.] I have seen to everything.  I went with the last guests as far as the gates.  But what became of Knut Gesling to-night?—­Give me mead, Margit!  I am thirsty Fill this cup.

     [MARGIT fetches a flagon of the mead from a cupboard, and
       and fills the goblet which is on the table before him.

MARGIT.

[Crossing to the right with the flagon.] You asked about Knut Gesling.

BENGT.

That I did.  The boaster, the braggart!  I have not forgot his threats of yester-morning.

MARGIT.

  He used worse words when he left to-night.

BENGT.

  He did?  So much the better.  I will strike him dead.

MARGIT.

  [Smiling contemptuously.] H’m—­

BENGT.

I will kill him, I say!  I fear not to face ten such fellows as he.  In the store-house hangs my grandfather’s axe; its shaft is inlaid with silver; with that axe in my hands, I tell you—! [Thumps the table and drinks.] To-morrow I shall arm myself, go forth with all my men, and slay Knut Gesling.

     [Empties the beaker.

MARGIT.

  [To herself.] Oh, to have to live with him!

     [Is in the act of leaving the room.

BENGT.

Margit, come here!  Fill my cup again. [She approaches; he tries to draw her down on his knee.] Ha, ha, ha!  You are right fair, Margit!  I love thee well!

MARGIT.

  [Freeing herself.] Let me go!

     [Crosses, with the goblet in her hand, to the left.

BENGT.

You are not in the humour to-night.  Ha, ha, ha!  That means no great matter, I know.

MARGIT.

[Softly, as she fills the goblet.] Oh, that this might be the last beaker I should fill for you.

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The Feast at Solhoug from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.