Monsen.
Ah, at last!
Aslaksen.
But not till to-morrow evening, he said; to-morrow evening, neither sooner nor later. Here's to you!
Heire.
[To Lundestad.] What the deuce is all this business between Stensgård and Madam Rundholmen?
Lundestad.
[Whispers.] He's courting her.
Heire.
I suspected as much! But he asked me to run him down a bit—to cast a slur on his character
Lundestad.
And you said you would?
Heire.
Yes; of course.
Lundestad.
I believe he says of you that your word is as good as your bond—and no better.
Heire.
Hee-hee—the dear fellow! He shall find out his mistake this time.
Madam Rundholmen.
[With an open letter in her hand, at the door on the left.] Where is Mr. Stensgård?
Heire.
He kissed your chambermaid and went, Madam Rundholmen!
