(A room at Ostrat. Through an open door in the back, the Banquet
Hall is seen in faint moonlight, which shines fitfully through
a deep bow-window in the opposite wall. To the right, an entrance-
door; further forward, a curtained window. On the left, a door
leading to the inner rooms; further forward a large, open fireplace,
which casts a glow over the room. It is a stormy evening.)
(BIORN and FINN are sitting by the fireplace. The latter is occupied
in polishing a helmet. Several pieces of armour lie near them,
along with a sword and shield.)
FINN (after a pause). Who was Knut* Alfson?
* Pronounce _Knoot_.
BIORN. My Lady says he was the last of Norway's knighthood.
FINN. And the Danes killed him at Oslo-fiord?
BIORN. Ask any child of five, if you know not that.
FINN. So Knut Alfson was the last of our knighthood? And now
he's dead and gone! (Holds up the helmet.) Well then, hang thou
scoured and bright in the Banquet Hall; for what art thou now
but an empty nut-shell? The kernel--the worms have eaten that many
a winter agone.
What say you, Biorn--may not one call Norway's land an empty nut-
shell, even like the helmet here; bright without, worm-eaten within?
BIORN. Hold your peace, and mind your work!--Is the helmet ready?
FINN. It shines like silver in the moonlight.
BIORN. Then put it by.---- ---- See here; scrape the rust off
the sword.
FINN (turning the sword over and examining it). Is it worth
while?
BIORN. What mean you?
FINN. The edge is gone.
BIORN. What's that to you? Give it me.---- ---- Here, take
the shield.
FINN (as before). There's no grip to it!