Lady Inger.
Peace, I say! look how the people swarm.
[A funeral hymn is heard from the room within.
There comes the coronation train. What a throng! All men bow themselves before the King's mother. Ay, ay; has she not fought for her son—even till her hands grew red withal?—Where are my daughters? I see them not.
Nils Lykke.
God's blood!—what has befallen here?
Lady Inger.
My daughters—my fair daughters! I have none any more. I had one left, and her I lost even as she was mounting her bridal bed. [Whispers.] In it lay Lucia dead. There was no room for two.
Nils Lykke.
Ah—it has come to this! The Lord's vengeance is upon me.
Lady Inger.
Can you see him? Look, look! 'Tis the King. It is Inger Gyldenlöve's son! I know him by the crown and by Sten Sture's ring that he wears round his neck. Hark, what a joyful sound! He is coming! Soon will he be in my arms! Ha-ha!—who conquers, God or I?
[The Men-at-Arms come out with the coffin.
