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Gudmund Alfson! Here! How can you think—?

Oh, I am sure of it.

[Crosses to the right.] Gudmund Alfson is at the wedding-feast in the King's hall; you know that as well as I.

Maybe; but none the less I am sure it was he.

Have you seen him?

Oh, no, no; but I must tell you—

Yes, haste you—tell on!

'Twas early morn, and the church bells rang, To Mass I was fain to ride; The birds in the willows twittered and sang, In the birch-groves far and wide. All earth was glad in the clear, sweet day; And from church it had well-nigh stayed me; For still, as I rode down the shady way, Each rosebud beguiled and delayed me. Silently into the church I stole;