Nils Lykke.
It was no dream, Lady Inger!
Lady Inger.
[Clasping her hands.] And you know it! You,—you!—Where is he then? Where have you got him? What would you do with him? [Screams.] Do not kill him, Nils Lykke! Give him back to me! Do not kill my child!
Olaf Skaktavl.
Ah, I begin to understand
Lady Inger.
And this fear—this torturing dread! Through all these weary years it has been ever with meand then all fails at last, and I must bear this agony!—Oh Lord my God, is it right of thee? Was it for this thou gavest him to me?
[Controls herself and says with forced composure:
Nils Lykke—tell me one thing. Where have you got him? Where is he?
Nils Lykke.
With his foster-father.
Lady Inger.
Still with his foster-father. Oh, that merciless man—! For ever to deny me—. But it must not go on thus! Help me, Olaf Skaktavl!
