ELINA (motions her mother back with her hand, still looking
intently at him, and says:) There is no need! I see who he
is. He is Nils Lykke.
NILS LYKKE (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 Gyldenlove,--you have
guessed rightly. 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--
it was plucked in my own chamber, and _there_ can grow no flower
for you.
NILS LYKKE (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 lady 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
naught 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