Unseemly and wounding were the words I wrote of you in my
letter to Lady Inger.
ELINA.
Like enough; I have not read them.
NILS LYKKE.
But at least their purport is not unknown to you; I know
your mother has not left you in ignorance of the matter; at
the least she has told you how I praised the lot of the man
who—; surely you know the hope I nursed—
ELINA.
Sir Knight—if ’tis of that you would speak—
NILS LYKKE.
I speak of it, only to ask pardon for my words; for no other
reason, I swear to you. If my fame—as I have too much cause
to fear—has gone before me to Östråt, you must needs know
enough of my life not to wonder that in such things I should
go to work something boldly. I have met many women, Elina
Gyldenlöve; but not one have I found unyielding. Such
lessons, look you, teach a man to be secure. He loses the
habit of roundabout ways——
ELINA.
May be so. I know not of what metal those women can have
been made.
For the rest, you err in thinking ’twas your letter to my
mother that aroused my soul’s hatred and bitterness against
you. It is of older date.
NILS LYKKE.
[_Uneasily._] Of older date? What mean you?
ELINA.
’Tis as you guessed:—your fame has gone before you, to
Östråt, even as over all the land. Nils Lykke’s name is
never spoken save with the name of some woman whom he has
beguiled and cast off. Some speak it in wrath, others with
laughter and wanton jeering at those weak-souled creatures.
But through the wrath and the laughter and the jeers rings
the song they have made of you, full of insolent challenge,
like an enemy’s song of triumph.
’Tis all this together that has begotten my hate for you.
You were ever in my thoughts, and ever I longed to meet you
face to face, that you might learn that there are women on
whom your subtle speeches are lost—if you should think to
use them.
NILS LYKKE.
You judge me unjustly, if you judge from what rumour has
told of me. Even if there be truth in all you have
heard,—you know not the causes behind it.—As a boy of
seventeen I began my course of pleasure. I have lived full
fifteen years since then. Light women granted me all that I
would—even before the wish had shaped itself into a prayer;
and what I offered them they seized with eager hands. You
are the first woman that has flung back a gift of mine with
scorn at my feet.
Think not I reproach you. Rather I honour you for it, as
never before have I honoured woman. But for this I reproach
my fate—and the thought is a gnawing pain to me—that you and
I were not sooner brought face to face.——Elina Gyldenlöve!
Your mother has told me of you. While far from Östråt life
ran its restless course, you went your lonely way in
silence, living in your dreams and histories. Therefore you
will understand what I have to tell you.—Know, then, that
once I too lived even such a life as yours. Methought that
when I stepped forth into the great world, a noble and
stately woman would come to meet me, and would beckon to me
and point out the path towards a glorious goal.—I was
deceived, Elina Gyldenlöve! Women came to meet me; but _she_
was not among them. Ere yet I had come to full manhood, I
had learnt to despise them all.
Was it my fault? Why were not the others even as you?—I know
the fate of your fatherland lies heavy on your soul; and you
know the part I have in these affairs——. ’Tis said of me
that I am false as the sea-foam. Mayhap I am; but if I be,
it is women who have made me so. Had I sooner found what I
sought,—had I met a woman proud and noble and high-souled
even as you, then had my path been different indeed. At this
moment, maybe, I had been standing at your side as the
champion of all that suffer wrong in Norway’s land. For
_this_ I believe: a woman is the mightiest power in the
world, and in her hand it lies to guide a man whither God
Almighty would have him go.
ELINA.
[_To herself._] Can it be as he says? Nay, nay; there is
falsehood in his eyes and deceit on his lips. And yet—no
song is sweeter than his words.
NILS LYKKE.
[_Coming closer, speaks low and more intimately._] As you
have dwelt here at Östråt, alone with your changeful
thoughts, how often have you felt your bosom stifling; how
often have the roof and walls seemed to shrink together till
they crushed your very soul. Then have your longings taken
wing with you; then have you yearned to fly far from here,
you knew not whither.—How often have you not wandered alone
by the fiord; far out a ship has sailed by in fair array,
with knights and ladies on her deck, with song and music of
stringed instruments;—a faint, far-off rumour of great
events has reached your ears;—and you have felt a longing in
your breast, an unconquerable craving to know all that lies
beyond the sea. But you have not understood what ailed you.
At times you have thought it was the fate of your fatherland
that filled you with all these restless broodings. You
deceived yourself;—a maiden so young as you has other food
for musing.——Elina Gyldenlöve! Have you never had visions of
an unknown power—a strong mysterious might, that binds
together the destinies of mortals? When you dreamed of the
many-coloured life far out in the wide world—when you
dreamed of knightly jousts and joyous festivals—saw you
never in your dreams a knight, who stood in the midst of the
gayest rout, with a smile on his lips and with bitterness in
his heart,—a knight that had once dreamed a dream as fair as
yours, of a woman noble and stately, for whom he went ever
a-seeking, and ever in vain?
ELINA.
Who are you, that have power to clothe my most secret
thoughts in words? How can you tell me what I have borne in
my inmost soul—yet knew it not myself? How know you——?
NILS LYKKE.
All that I have told you, I have read in your eyes.
ELINA.
Never has any man spoken to me as you have spoken. I have
understood you but dimly; and yet—all, all seems changed
since——
[_To herself._] Now I understand why they said that Nils
Lykke was unlike all others.
NILS LYKKE.
There is one thing in the world that might drive a man to
madness, but to think of it; and that is the thought of what
might have been, had things but fallen out in this way or
that. Had I met you on my path while the tree of my life was
yet green and budding, at this hour, mayhap, you had been——
But forgive me, noble lady! Our speech of these past few
moments has made me forget how we stand one to another.
’Twas as though a secret voice had told me from the first
that to you I could speak openly, without flattery or
dissimulation.
ELINA.
That can you.
NILS LYKKE.
’Tis well;—and it may be that this openness has already in
part reconciled us. Ay—my hope is yet bolder. The time may
yet come when you will think of the stranger knight without
hate or bitterness in your soul. Nay,—mistake me not! I mean
not _now_—but some time, in the days to come. And that this
may be the less hard for you—and as I have begun once for
all to speak to you plainly and openly —let me tell you——
ELINA.
Sir Knight——!
NILS LYKKE.
[_Smiling._] Ah, I see the thought of my letter still
affrights you. Fear nought on that score. I would from my
heart it were unwritten, for—I know ’twill concern you
little enough, so I may even say it right out—for I love you
not, and shall never come to love you. Fear nothing,
therefore, as I said before; I shall in nowise seek to——
But what ails you——?
ELINA.
Me? Nothing, nothing.—Tell me but one thing: why do you
still wear those flowers? What would you with them?
NILS LYKKE.
These? Are they not a gage of battle you have thrown down to
the wicked Nils Lykke, on behalf of all womankind? What
could I do but take it up?
You asked what I would with them? [_Softly._] When I stand
again amid the fair ladies of Denmark—when the music of the
strings is hushed and there is silence in the hall—then will
I bring forth these flowers and tell a tale of a young
maiden sitting alone in a gloomy black-beamed hall, far to
the north in Norway—— [_Breaks off and bows respectfully._
But I fear I detain the noble daughter of the house too
long. We shall meet no more; for before daybreak I shall be
gone. So now I bid you farewell.
ELINA.
Fare you well, Sir Knight! [_A short silence._
NILS LYKKE.
Again you are deep in thought, Elina Gyldenlöve! Is it the
fate of your fatherland that weighs upon you still?
ELINA.
[_Shakes her head, absently gazing straight in front of
her._] My fatherland?—I think not of my fatherland.
NILS LYKKE.
Then ’tis the strife and misery of the time that disquiets
you.
ELINA.
The time? I had forgotten it——You go to Denmark? Said you
not so
NILS LYKKE.
I go to Denmark.
ELINA.
Can I look towards Denmark from this hall?
NILS LYKKE.
[_Points to the window on the left._] Ay, from this window.
Denmark lies there, to the south.
ELINA.
And is it far from here? More than a hundred leagues?
NILS LYKKE.
Much more. The sea lies between you and Denmark.
ELINA.
[_To herself._] The sea? Thought has seagulls’ wings. The
sea cannot stay it.
[_Goes out to the left._
NILS LYKKE.
[_Looks after her awhile; then says:_] If I could but spare
two days now—or even one—I would have her in my power, even
as the others.
And yet is there rare stuff in this maiden. She is proud.
Might I not after all——? No; rather humble her——
[_Paces the room._
Verily, I believe she has set my blood afire. Who would have
thought it possible after all these years?—Enough of this! I
must get out of the tangle I have here thrust myself into.
[_Sits in a chair on the right._
What is the meaning of it? Both Olaf Skaktavl and Inger
Gyldenlöve seem blind to the mistrust ’twill waken, when
’tis rumoured that I am in their league.—Or can Lady Inger
have seen through my purpose? Can she have seen that all my
promises were but designed to lure Nils Sture forth from his
hiding-place?
[_Springs up._
Damnation! Is it I that have been fooled? ’Tis like enough
that Count Sture is not at Östråt at all. It may be the
rumour of his flight was but a feint. He may be safe and
sound among his friends in Sweden, while I——
[_Walks restlessly up and down._
And to think I was so sure of success! If I should effect
nothing? If Lady Inger should penetrate all my designs—and
publish my discomfiture—-. To be a laughing-stock both
here and in Denmark! To have sought to lure Lady Inger
into a trap—and given her cause the help it most
needed—strengthened her in the people’s favour——! Ah, I
could well-nigh sell myself to the Evil One, would he but
help me to lay hands on Count Sture.
[_The window in the background is pushed open._ NILS
STENSSON _appears outside._
NILS LYKKE.
[_Clutches at his sword._] Who is there?
NILS STENSSON.
[_Jumps down on to the floor._] Ah; here I am at last then!
NILS LYKKE.
[_Aside._] What means this?
NILS STENSSON.
God’s peace, master!
NILS LYKKE.
Thanks, good Sir! Methinks you have chosen a strange way of
entrance.
NILS STENSSON.
Ay, what the devil was I to do? The gate was shut. Folk must
sleep in this house like bears at Yuletide.
NILS LYKKE.
God be thanked! Know you not that a good conscience is the
best pillow?
NILS STENSSON.
Ay, it must be even so; for with all my rattling and
thundering, I——
NILS LYKKE.
——You won not in?
NILS STENSSON.
You have hit it. So I said to myself: As you are bidden to
be in Östråt to-night, if you have to go through fire and
water, you may surely make free to creep through a window.
NILS LYKKE.
[_Aside._] Ah, if it should be——!
[_Moves a step or two nearer._
Was it, then, of the last necessity that you should reach
Östråt to-night?
NILS STENSSON.
Was it? Ay, faith but it was. I love not to keep folk
waiting, I can tell you.
NILS LYKKE.
Aha,—then Lady Inger Gyldenlöve looks for your coming?
NILS STENSSON.
Lady Inger Gyldenlöve? Nay, that I can scarce say for
certain; [_with a sly smile_] but there might be some one
else——
NILS LYKKE.
[_Smiles in answer._] Ah, so there might be some one else—?
NILS STENSSON.
Tell me—are you of the house?
NILS LYKKE.
I? Well, in so far that I am Lady Inger’s guest this
evening.
NILS STENSSON.
A guest?—Is not to-night the third night after Martinmas?
NILS LYKKE.
The third night after—? Ay, right enough.—Would you seek the
lady of the house at once? I think she is not yet gone to
rest. But might not _you_ sit down and rest awhile, dear
young Sir? See, here is yet a flagon of wine remaining, and
doubtless you will find some food. Come, fall to; you will
do wisely to refresh your strength.
NILS STENSSON.
You are right, Sir; ’twere not amiss.
[_Sits down by the table and eats and drinks._
Both roast meat and sweet cakes! Why, you live like lords
here! When one has slept, as I have, on the naked ground,
and lived on bread and water for four or five days——
NILS LYKKE.
[_Looks at him with a smile._] Ay, such a life must be hard
for one that is wont to sit at the high-table in noble
halls——
NILS STENSSON.
Noble halls——?
NILS LYKKE.
But now can you take your ease at Östråt, as long as it
likes you.
NILS STENSSON.
[_Pleased._] Ay? Can I truly? Then I am not to begone again
so soon?
NILS LYKKE.
Nay, that I know not. Sure you yourself can best say that.
NILS STENSSON.
[_Softly._] Oh, the devil! [_Stretches himself in the
chair._] Well, you see—’tis not yet certain. I, for my part,
were nothing loath to stay quiet here awhile; but——
NILS LYKKE.
——But you are not in all points your own master? There be
other duties and other affairs——?
NILS STENSSON.
Ay, that is just the rub. Were I to choose, I would rest me
at Östråt at least the winter through; I have for the most
part led a soldier’s life, and——
[_Interrupts himself suddenly, fills a goblet, and
drinks._
Your health, Sir!
NILS LYKKE.
A soldier’s life? H’m!
NILS STENSSON.
Nay, what I would have said is this: I have long been eager
to see Lady Inger Gyldenlöve, whose fame has spread so wide.
She must be a queenly woman,—is’t not so?——The one thing I
like not in her, is that she is so cursedly slow to take
open action.
NILS LYKKE.
Open action?
NILS STENSSON.
Ay, ay, you understand me; I mean she is so loath to take a
hand in driving the foreign masters out of the land.
NILS LYKKE.
Ay, there you are right. But if now you do what you can, you
will doubtless move her.
NILS STENSSON.
I? God knows ’twould but little serve if _I_——
NILS LYKKE.
Yet ’tis strange you should seek her here if you have so
little hope.
NILS STENSSON.
What mean you?—Tell me, know you Lady Inger?
NILS LYKKE.
Surely; since I am her guest——
NILS STENSSON.
Ay, but it in nowise follows that you know her. I too am her
guest, yet have I never seen so much as her shadow.
NILS LYKKE.
Yet did you speak of her——
NILS STENSSON.
——as all folk speak. Why should I not? And besides, I have
often enough heard from Peter Kanzler——
[_Stops in confusion, and falls to eating busily._
NILS LYKKE.
You would have said——?
NILS STENSSON.
[_Eating._] I? Nay, ’tis all one.
[_Nils Lykke laughs._
NILS STENSSON.
Why laugh you, Sir?
NILS LYKKE.
At nothing, Sir!
NILS STENSSON.
[_Drinks._] A pretty vintage ye have in this house.
NILS LYKKE.
[_Approaches him confidentially._] Listen—were it not time
now to throw off the mask?
NILS STENSSON.
[_Smiling._] The mask? Why, do as seems best to you.
NILS LYKKE.
Then off with all disguise. You are known, Count Sture!
NILS STENSSON.
[_Bursts out laughing._] Count Sture? Do you too take me for
Count Sture?
[_Rises from the table._
You mistake, Sir! I am not Count Sture.
NILS LYKKE.
You are not? Then who are you?
NILS STENSSON.
My name is Nils Stensson.
NILS LYKKE.
[_Looks at him with a smile._] H’m! Nils Stensson? But you
are not Sten Sture’s son Nils? The name chimes at least.
NILS STENSSON.
True enough; but God knows what right I have to bear it. My
father I never knew; my mother was a poor peasant-woman,
that was robbed and murdered in one of the old feuds. Peter
Kanzler chanced to be on the spot; he took me into his care,
brought me up, and taught me the trade of arms. As you know,
King Gustav has been hunting him this many a year; and I
have followed him faithfully, wherever he went.
NILS LYKKE.
Peter Kanzler has taught you more than the trade of arms,
meseems.——Well, well; then you are not Nils Sture. But at
least you come from Sweden. Peter Kanzler has sent you
hither to find a stranger, who——
NILS STENSSON.
[_Nods cunningly._]——who is found already.
NILS LYKKE.
[_Somewhat uncertain._] And whom you do not know?
NILS STENSSON.
As little as you know me; for I swear to you by God himself:
I am not Count Sture!
NILS LYKKE.
In sober earnest, Sir?
NILS STENSSON.
As truly as I live! Wherefore should I deny it, if I were?
NILS LYKKE.
But where, then, is Count Sture?
NILS STENSSON.
[_In a low voice._] Ay, _that_ is just the secret.
NILS LYKKE.
[_Whispers._] Which is known to you? Is’t not so?
NILS STENSSON.
[_Nods._] And which I am to tell you.
NILS LYKKE.
To tell me? Well then,—where is he?
[NILS STENSSON _points upwards._
NILS LYKKE.
Up there? Lady Inger holds him hidden in the loft-room?
NILS STENSSON.
Nay, nay; you mistake me.
[_Looks round cautiously._
Nils Sture is in Heaven!
NILS LYKKE.
Dead? And where?
NILS STENSSON.
In his mother’s castle,—three weeks since.
NILS LYKKE.
Ah, you are deceiving me! ’Tis but five or six days since he
crossed the frontier into Norway.
NILS STENSSON.
Oh, that was I.
NILS LYKKE.
But just before that the Count had appeared in the Dales.
The people, who were restless already, broke out openly and
would have chosen him for king.
NILS STENSSON.
Ha-ha-ha; that was me too!
NILS LYKKE.
You?
NILS STENSSON.
I will tell you how it came about. One day Peter Kanzler
called me to him and gave me to know that great things were
preparing. He bade me set out for Norway and fare to Östråt,
where I must be on a certain fixed day——
NILS LYKKE.
[_Nods._] The third night after Martinmas.
NILS STENSSON.
There I was to meet a stranger——
NILS LYKKE.
Ay, right; I am he.
NILS STENSSON.
From him I should learn what more I had to do. Moreover, I
was to let him know that the Count was dead of a sudden, but
that as yet ’twas known to no one save to his mother the
Countess, together with Peter Kanzler and a few old servants
of the Stures.
NILS LYKKE.
I understand. The Count was the peasants’ rallying-point.
Were the tidings of his death to spread, they would fall
asunder,—and ’twould all come to nought.
NILS STENSSON.
Ay, maybe so; I know little of such matters.
NILS LYKKE.
But how came you to give yourself out for the Count?
NILS STENSSON.
How came I to——? Nay, what know I? Many’s the mad prank I
have hit on in my day. And yet ’twas not I hit on it
neither; for whereever I appeared in the Dales, the people
crowded round me and hailed me as Count Sture. Deny it as I
pleased, ’twas wasted breath. The Count had been there two
years before, they said—and the veriest child knew me again.
Well, so be it, thought I; never again will you be a Count
in this life; why not try what ’tis like for once?
NILS LYKKE.
Well,—and what did you more?
NILS STENSSON.
I? I ate and drank and took my ease. The only pity was that
I had to take the road again so soon. But when I set forth
across the frontier—ha-ha-ha—I promised them I would soon be
back with three or four thousand men—I know not how many I
said—and then we would lay on in earnest.
NILS LYKKE.
And you did not bethink you that you were acting rashly?
NILS STENSSON.
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.
You have called the people to arms. You have given seditious
promises, and raised troubles in the land.
NILS STENSSON.
Ay, but ’twas only in jest!
NILS LYKKE.
King Gustav will scarce take that view of the affair.
NILS STENSSON.
Truly, there is something in what you say. To think I could
be so featherwitted——Well, well, I’m not a dead man yet! You
will protect me; and besides—-the men-at-arms can scarce be
at my heels yet.
NILS LYKKE.
But what else have you to tell me?
NILS STENSSON.
I? Nothing. When once I have given you the packet——
NILS LYKKE.
[_Off his guard._] The packet?
NILS STENSSON.
Ay, sure you know——
NILS LYKKE.
Ah, right, right; the papers from Peter Kanzler——
NILS STENSSON.
See, here they all are.
[_Takes out a packet from inside his doublet, and
hands it to_ NILS LYKKE.
NILS LYKKE.
[_Aside._] Letters and papers for Olaf Skaktavl. [_To_
NILS STENSSON.
The packet is open, I see. ’Tis like you know what it
contains?
NILS STENSSON.
No, good sir; I love not to read writing; and for reason
good.
NILS LYKKE.
I understand; you have given most care to the trade of arms.
[_Sits down by the table on the right, and runs
through the papers._
Aha! Here is light enough and to spare on what is brewing.
This small letter tied with a silken thread—[_Examines the
address._] This too for Olaf Skaktavl. [_Opens the letter,
and glances through its contents._] From Peter Kanzler. I
thought as much. [_Reads under his breath._] “I am hard
bested, for—”; ay, sure enough; here it stands,—“Young Count
Sture has been gathered to his fathers, even at the time
fixed for the revolt to break forth”—“—but all may yet be
made good—” What now? [_Reads on in astonishment._] “You
must know, then, Olaf Skaktavl, that the young man who
brings you this letter is a son of—” Heaven and earth—can it
be so?—Ay, by the cross of Christ, even so ’tis written!
[_Glances at_ NILS STENSSON.] Can he be—? Ah, if it were so!
[_Reads on._] “I have nurtured him since he was a year old;
but up to this day I have ever refused to give him back,
trusting to have in him a sure hostage for Inger
Gyldenlöve’s faithfulness to us and to our friends. Yet in
that respect he has but little availed us. You may marvel
that I told you not this secret when you were with me here
of late; therefore will I confess freely that I feared you
might seize upon him, even as I had done, and to the same
intent. But now, when you have seen Lady Inger, and have
doubtless assured yourself how loath she is to have a hand
in our undertaking, you will see that ’tis wisest to give
her back her own as soon as may be. Well might it come to
pass that in her joy and security and thankfulness—” ——
“—that is now our last hope.”
[_Sits for a while as though struck dumb with
surprise; then exclaims in a low voice:_
Aha,—what a letter! Gold would not buy it!
NILS STENSSON.
’Tis plain I have brought you weighty tidings. Ay, ay,—Peter
Kanzler has many irons in the fire, folk say.
NILS LYKKE.
[_To himself._] What to do with all this? A thousand paths
are open to me—What if I were—? No, ’twere to risk too much.
But if—ah, if I—? I will venture it!
[_Tears the letter across, crumples up the pieces,
and hides them inside his doublet; puts back the
other papers into the packet, which he thrusts
inside his belt; rises and says:_
A word, my young friend!
NILS STENSSON.
[_Approaching him._] Well—your looks say that the game goes
bravely.
NILS LYKKE.
Ay, by my soul it does. You have given me a hand of nought
but court cards,—queens and knaves——
NILS STENSSON.
But what of me, that have brought all these good tidings?
Have I nought more to do?
NILS LYKKE.
You? Ay, that have you. You belong to the game. You are a
king—and king of trumps too.
NILS STENSSON.
I a king? Oh, now I understand; you are thinking of my
exaltation——
NILS LYKKE.
Your exaltation?
NILS STENSSON.
Ay; that which you foretold for me, if King Gustav’s men got
me in their clutches——
[_Makes a motion to indicate hanging._
NILS LYKKE.
True enough;—but let that trouble you no more. It now lies
with yourself alone whether within a month you shall have
the hempen noose or a chain of gold about your neck.
NILS STENSSON.
A chain of gold? And it lies with me?
[NILS LYKKE _nods._
NILS STENSSON.
Why then, the devil take doubting! Do you but tell me what I
am to do.
NILS LYKKE.
I will. But first you must swear me a solemn oath that no
living creature in the wide world shall know what I confide
to you.
NILS STENSSON.
Is that all? You shall have ten oaths, if you will.
NILS LYKKE.
Not so lightly, young Sir! ’Tis no jesting matter.
NILS STENSSON.
Well, well; I am grave enough.
NILS LYKKE.
In the Dales you called yourself a Count’s son;—is’t not so?
NILS STENSSON.
Nay—begin you now on _that_ again? Have I not made free
confession——
NILS LYKKE.
You mistake me. What you said in the Dales was the truth.