[Vacillating.] But to-night? At once? No, no! Not to-night! Ha-ha-ha—there again!—pondering, wavering! Håkon knows not what that means; he goes straight forward, and so he conquers! [Going up the room, stops suddenly beside the cradle.] The King-child!—How fair a brow! He is dreaming. [Smoothes out the bed-clothes; and looks long at the child.] Such an one as thou can save many things in a man's soul. I have no son. [Bends over the cradle.] He is like Håkon[Shrinks suddenly backwards.] The King-child, said the Queen! Bow low before him and hail him as men hail kings! Should Håkon die before me, this child will be raised to the throne; and I—I shall stand humbly before him, and bow low and hail him as king! [In rising agitation.] This child, Håkon's son, shall sit on high, on the seat that should in right, mayhap, be mine—and I shall stand before his footstool, white-haired and bowed with age, and see my whole life-work lying undone—die without having been king!—I have more men than Håkon—there blows a storm to-night, and the wind sweeps down the fiord! If I took the King-child? I am safe with the Trönders.[1] What would Håkon dare attempt, were his child in my power? My men will follow me, fight for me and conquer. Their reward shall be kingly, and they know it.—So shall it be! I will take the stride; I will leap the abyss, for the first time! Could I but see if thou hast Sverre's eyes—or Håkon Sverresson's! He sleeps. I cannot see them. [A pause.] Sleep is as a shield. Sleep in peace, thou little Pretender! [Goes over to the table.] Håkon shall decide; once again will I speak with him.
- ↑ Men of the Trondheim district.
