HEMMING. How rich he is I really can't say; but it is said of
his grandsire in the song:
With golden attire he can provide
A hundred maids or more for his bride!
So mighty perhaps is not Olaf Liljekrans, but still he owns
both forest and field.
INGEBORG. [Still occupied.] And you, what do you possess?
HEMMING. [Sighing.] My poverty—is all I have.
INGEBORG. That isn't very much, Hemming!
HEMMING. No, it isn't very much, Mistress Ingeborg!
INGEBORG. [Hums, turned away from him, without changing her
position, and still occupied as before.]
'Tis little my heart is attracted indeed
To him who has all the wealth he may need!
Much more I fancy the humble swain,
The friend of my heart he will ever remain!
HEMMING. [In the greatest joy.] Ingeborg! O, if what you say is true, I must tenfold bless my poverty.
INGEBORG. [Turns her head and speaks coldly.] I don't understand you; the song was only an ancient ballad.
[Comes down from the rock with the cherry twigs in her hand, and approaches him as she looks at him fixedly.]
INGEBORG. But I know another song too, and that I will sing for
you:
The king's court within stand the steeds so fair;
The suitor who lacks not the courage to dare,—
He shoes the yellow, he shoes the gray,
The swiftest he saddles before it is day!
He places his bride on the steed behind,
She follows him safe, she follows him blind.
He rides with her off, to the sea they hie,
With him she would willingly live and die!