NILS LYKKE. Yet did you speak of her—— NILS STENSSON. ——as all folk speak. Why should I not? And besides, I have often enough heard from Peter Kanzler—— [_Stops in confusion, and falls to eating busily._ NILS LYKKE. You would have said——? NILS STENSSON. [_Eating._] I? Nay, ’tis all one. [_Nils Lykke laughs._ NILS STENSSON. Why laugh you, Sir? NILS LYKKE. At nothing, Sir! NILS STENSSON. [_Drinks._] A pretty vintage ye have in this house. NILS LYKKE. [_Approaches him confidentially._] Listen—were it not time now to throw off the mask? NILS STENSSON. [_Smiling._] The mask? Why, do as seems best to you. NILS LYKKE. Then off with all disguise. You are known, Count Sture! NILS STENSSON. [_Bursts out laughing._] Count Sture? Do you too take me for Count Sture? [_Rises from the table._ You mistake, Sir! I am not Count Sture. NILS LYKKE. You are not? Then who are you? NILS STENSSON. My name is Nils Stensson. NILS LYKKE. [_Looks at him with a smile._] H’m! Nils Stensson? But you are not Sten Sture’s son Nils? The name chimes at least. NILS STENSSON. True enough; but God knows what right I have to bear it. My father I never knew; my mother was a poor peasant-woman, that was robbed and murdered in one of the old feuds. Peter Kanzler chanced to be on the spot; he took me into his care, brought me up, and taught me the trade of arms. As you know, King Gustav has been hunting him this many a year; and I have followed him faithfully, wherever he went. NILS LYKKE. Peter Kanzler has taught you more than the trade of arms, meseems.——Well, well; then you are not Nils Sture. But at least you come from Sweden. Peter Kanzler has sent you hither to find a stranger, who—— NILS STENSSON. [_Nods cunningly._]——who is found already. NILS LYKKE. [_Somewhat uncertain._] And whom you do not know? NILS STENSSON. As little as you know me; for I swear to you by God himself: I am not Count Sture! NILS LYKKE. In sober earnest, Sir?