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.