’Tis easy to see whence you have learnt such venomous words. You have let yourself give ear to what the thoughtless rabble mutters and murmurs about things it can little judge of. ELINA. “Truth is in the people’s mouth,” was your word when they praised you in speech and song. LADY INGER. May be so. But if indeed I chose to sit here idle, though it was my part to act—think you not that such a choice were burden enough for me, without your adding to its weight? ELINA. The weight I add to your burden crushes me no less than you. Lightly and freely I drew the breath of life, so long as I had you to believe in. For my pride is my life; and well might I have been proud, had you remained what once you were. LADY INGER. And what proves to you that I have not? Elina—how know you so surely that you are not doing your mother wrong? ELINA. [_Vehemently._] Oh, that I were! LADY INGER. Peace! You have no right to call your mother to account.—With a single word I could——; but ’twould be an ill word for you to hear; you must await what time shall bring; may be that—— ELINA. [_Turns to go._] Sleep well, my mother! LADY INGER. [_Hesitates._] Nay—stay with me; I have still somewhat—— Come nearer;—you must hear me, Elina! [_Sits down by the table in front of the window._ ELINA. I hear you. LADY INGER. For as silent as you are, I know well that you often long to be gone from here. Östråt is too lonely and lifeless for you. ELINA. Do you wonder at that, my mother? LADY INGER. It rests with you whether all this shall henceforth be changed. ELINA. How so? LADY INGER. Listen.—I look for a guest to-night. ELINA. [_Comes nearer._] A guest? LADY INGER. A guest, who must remain a stranger to all. None must know whence he comes or whither he goes. ELINA. [_Throws herself, with a cry of joy, at her mother’s feet, and seizes her hands._] My mother! My mother! Forgive me, if you can, all the wrong I have done you! LADY INGER. What do you mean? Elina, I do not understand you. ELINA.