Olaf Skaktavl.
[Turning over the papers.] Strange. No letter.
Nils Lykke.
——Lady Inger Gyldenlöve’s fame is all too widely spread that I should not long have been eager to see her face to face.
Lady Inger.
So I thought. But what, then, is an hour’s jesting talk at the supper-table? Let us try to sweep away all that has till now lain between us; it may well come to pass that the Nils Lykke I know may wipe out the grudge I bore the one I knew not. Prolong your stay here but a few days, Sir Councillor! I dare not persuade Olaf Skaktavl thereto, since his secret charge in Sweden calls him hence. But as for you, doubtless your sagacity has placed all things beforehand in such train that your presence can scarce be needed. Trust me, your time shall not pass tediously with us; at least you will find both me and my daughter heartily disposed to do all in our power to pleasure you.
Nils Lykke.
I doubt neither your goodwill towards me nor your daughter’s; of that I have had ample proof. And I trust you will not doubt that my presence elsewhere must be vitally needful, since, despite of all, I must declare my longer stay at Östråt impossible.
Lady Inger.
Is it even so!—Know you, Sir Councillor, were I evilly minded, I might fancy you had come to Östråt to try a fall with me, and that, having lost, you cared not to linger on the battlefield among the witnesses of your defeat.