Ay, afterwards; but then, to be sure, ’twas too late.
Nils Lykke.
I grieve for you, my young friend; but you will soon come to feel the effects of your folly. Let me tell you that you are pursued. A troop of Swedish men-at-arms is out after you.
Nils Stensson.
After me? Ha-ha-ha! Nay, that is rare! And when they come and think they have Count Sture in their clutches—ha-ha-ha!
Nils Lykke.
[Gravely.]——Then ’tis all over with you.
Nils Stensson.
All over——? But I am not Count Sture.
Nils Lykke.