I thirst more than ever to see her face
to face----
Oh, it is she! How proud and lofty she seems! Even thus did I
ever picture her. Fear not, dear Sir, I shall do nought rashly.
Since I have learnt this secret, I feel, as it were, older and
wiser. I will no longer be wild and heedless; I will be even as
other well-born youths.--Tell me,--knows she that I am here?
Surely you have prepared her?

NILS LYKKE. Ay, sure enough; but----

NILS STENSSON. Well?

NILS LYKKE. ----She will not own you for her son.

NILS STENSSON. Will not own me? But she _is_ my mother.--Oh,
if there be no other way--(takes out a ring which he wears on a
cord round his neck)--show her this ring. I have worn it since
my earliest childhood; she must surely know its history.

NILS LYKKE. Hide the ring, man! Hide it, I say!
You mistake me. Lady Inger doubts not at all that you are her
child; but--ay, look about you; look at all this wealth; look at
these mighty ancestors and kinsmen whose pictures deck the walls
both high and low; look lastly at herself, the haughty dame, used
to bear sway as the first noblewoman in the kingdom. Think you
it can be to her mind to take a poor ignorant youth by the hand
before all men's eyes and say: Behold my son!

NILS STENSSON. Ay, you are right, I am poor and ignorant. I
have nought to offer her in return for what I crave. Oh, never
have I felt my poverty weigh on me till this hour! But tell me--
what think you I should do to win her love? Tell me, dear Sir;
sure you must know.

NILS LYKKE. You must win your father's kingdom. But until that
may be, look well that you wound not her ears by hinting at kinship
or the like. She will bear her as though she believed you to be
the real Count Sture, until you have made yourself worthy to be
called her son.

NILS STENSSON. Oh, but tell me----!

NILS LYKKE. Hush; hush!

LADY INGER (rises and hands him a paper). Sir Knight--here is
my promise.

NILS LYKKE. I thank you.

LADY INGER (notices NILS STENSSON). Ah,--this young man is----?

NILS LYKKE. Ay, Lady Inger, he is Count Sture.

LADY INGER (aside, looks at him stealthily). Feature for
feature;--ay, by God,--it is Sten Sture's son!
(Approaches him and says with cold courtesy.)
I bid you welcome under my roof, Count! It rests with you whether
or not we shall bless this meeting a year hence.

NILS STENSSON. With me? Oh, do but tell me