[Loosening a spray of flowers that he wears in the front of his doublet.] At least you will not disdain this humble gift. ’Twas a farewell token from a courtly dame when I set forth from Trondhiem this morning.——But mark me, noble maiden,——were I to offer you a gift that were fully worthy of you, it could be nought less than a princely crown.
Elina.
[Who has taken the flowers passively.] And were it the royal crown of Denmark you held forth to me——before I shared it with you, I would crush it to pieces between my hands, and cast the fragments at your feet!
[Throws down the flowers at his feet, and goes into the Banquet Hall.
Olaf Skaktavl.
[Mutters to himself.] Bold——as Inger Ottisdaughter by Knut Alfson’s bier!
Lady Inger.
[Softly, after looking alternately at Elina and Nils Lykke.] The wolf can be tamed. Now to forge the fetters.
Nils Lykke.
[Picks up the flowers and gazes in rapture after Elina.] God’s holy blood, but she is proud and fair!