[Aside, to Lady Inger.] How? Does she know me? Can Lucia have—? Can she know——?
Lady Inger.
Hush! She knows nothing.
Elina.
[To herself.] I knew it;—even so must Nils Lykke appear.
Nils Lykke.
[Approaches her.] Yes, Elina Gyldenlöve,—you have guessed aright. And as it seems that, in some sense, you know me,—and, moreover, as I am your mother’s guest,——you will not deny me the flower-spray you wear in your bosom. So long as it is fresh and fragrant, I shall have in it an image of yourself.
Elina.
[Proudly, but still gazing at him.] Pardon me, Sir Knight——’twas plucked in my own chamber, and there can grow no flower for you.
Nils Lykke.