Henrik Ibsens Prose Dramas, Vol III. | Page 8

but nevertheless she loved him; and had you had a
mother's heart, your daughter's honour had been more to you than all.
LADY INGER. Not more than her happiness. Do you think that, with
Merete's lot before my eyes, I could sacrifice my second child to a man
that loved her not?
ELINA. Cunning words may befool many, but they befool not me----
Think not I know nothing of all that is passing in our land. I understand
your counsels but too well. I know well that our Danish lords have no
true friend in you. It may be that you hate them; but your fear them too.
When you gave Merete to Vinzents Lunge the Danes held the mastery
on all sides throughout our land. Three years later, when you forbade
Lucia to wed the man she had given her life to, though he had deceived
her,--things were far different then. The King's Danish governors had
shamefully misused the common people, and you thought it not wise to
link yourself still more closely to the foreign tyrants. And what have
you done to avenge her that had to die so young? You have done
nothing. Well then, I will act in your stead; I will avenge all the shame

they have brought upon our people and our house.
LADY INGER. You? What will you do?
ELINA. I shall go my way, even as you go yours. What I shall do I
myself know not; but I feel within me the strength to dare all for our
righteous cause.
LADY INGER. Then you have a hard fight before you. I once
promised as you do now--and my hair has grown grey under the burden
of that promise.
ELINA. Good-night! Your guest will soon be here, and at that meeting
I should be out of place. It may be there is yet time for you---- ----; well,
God strengthen you and guide your way! Forget not that the eyes of
many thousands are fixed upon you. Think on Merete, weeping late and
early over her wasted life. Think on Lucia, sleeping in her black coffin.
And one thing more. Forget not that in the game you play this night,
your stake is your last child.
(Goes out to the left.)
LADY INGER (looks after her awhile). My last child? You know not
how true was that word---- ---- But the stake is not my child only. God
help me, I am playing to-night for the whole of Norway's land. Ah--is
not that some one riding through the gateway? (Listens at the window.)
No; not yet. Only the wind; it blows cold as the grave---- ---- Has God
a right to do this?--To make me a woman--and then to lay a man's duty
upon my shoulders? For I have the welfare of the country in my hands.
It is in my power to make them rise as one man. They look to me for
the signal; and if I give it not now---- it may never be given. To delay?
To sacrifice the many for the sake of one?--Were it not better if I
could---- ----? No, no, no--I will not! I cannot! (Steals a glance towards
the Banquet Hall, but turns away again as if in dread, and whispers:) I
can see them in there now. Pale spectres--dead ancestors-- fallen
kinsfolk.--Ah, those eyes that pierce me from every corner! (Makes a
backward gesture with her hand, and cries:) Sten Sture! Knut Alfson!
Olaf Skaktavl! Back--back!--I cannot do this!

(A STRANGER, strongly built, and with grizzled hair and beard, has
entered from the Banquet Hall. He is dressed in a torn lambskin tunic;
his weapons are rusty.)
THE STRANGER (stops in the doorway, and says in a low voice). Hail
to you, Inger Gyldenlove!
LADY INGER (turns with a scream). Ah, Christ in heaven save me!
(Falls back into a chair. The STRANGER stands gazing at her,
motionless, leaning on his sword.)

ACT SECOND.
(The room at Ostrat, as in the first Act.)
(LADY INGER GYLDENLOVE is seated at the table on the right, by
the window. OLAF SKAKTAVL is standing a little way from her.
Their faces show that they have been engaged in an animated
discussion.)
OLAF SKAKTAVL. For the last time, Inger Gyldenlove--you are not
to be moved from your purpose?
LADY INGER. I can do nought else. And my counsel to you is: do as I
do. If it be heaven's will that Norway perish utterly, perish it must, for
all we may do to save it.
OLAF SKAKTAVL. And think you I can content myself with words
like these? Shall I sit and look quietly on, now that the hour is come?
Do you forget the reckoning I have to pay? They have robbed me of my
lands,