The lowly dale has mountain air for me;
Here I've the immeasurable fjord, the flowers,
Here I have warbling birds and choral bowers,
And lady fortune's self,--for here is she!

FALK.
Ah, lady Fortune by our Northern water caught her!
[With a glance towards the house.
Hist--Svanhild--

LIND.
Well; I go,--disclose to none
The secret that we share alone with one.
'Twas good of you to listen; now enfold it
Deep in your heart,--warm, glowing, as I told it.

[He goes out in the background to the others. FALK
looks after him a moment, and paces up and down
in the garden, visibly striving to master his
agitation. Presently SVANHILD comes out with a
shawl on her arm, and is going towards the back.
FALK approaches and gazes at her fixedly.
SVANHILD stops.

SVANHILD [after a short pause].
You gaze at me so!

FALK [half to himself].
Yes, 'tis there--the same;
The shadow in her eyes' deep mirror sleeping,