Lady Inger.
A noble.
Elina.
[More softly.] And the Danish envoy comes hither to-night?
Lady Inger.
To-night.
Elina.
If so be, then I fear to read the meaning of your words.
Lady Inger.
There is naught to fear if you misread them not. It is far from my thought to put force upon you. You shall choose for yourself in this matter, and follow your own rede.
Elina.
[Comes a step nearer.] Know you the tale of the mother who drove across the hills by night, with her little children in the sledge? The wolves were on her track; 'twas life or death with her;—and one by one she cast out her little ones, to win time and save herself.
Lady Inger.
Nursery tales! A mother would tear the heart from her breast, before she would cast her child to the wolves!
Elina.
Were I not my mother's daughter, I would say you were right. But you are like that
