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 where-ever 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.
