If we close not the lips of him that is within ere he come to speech with the Swedish captain, then is my son lost to me. But if, on the other hand, he be swept from my path, when the time comes I can claim all his rights for my own child. Then shall you see that Inger Ottis’ daughter has metal in her yet. Of this be assured—you shall not have long to wait for the vengeance you have thirsted after for twenty years.—Hark! They are coming up the stairs! Olaf Skaktavl,—it lies with you whether tomorrow I shall be no more than a childless woman, or —— OLAF SKAKTAVL. So be it! I have yet one sound hand left. [_Gives her his hand._] Inger Gyldenlöve—your name shall not die out through me. _Follows_ NILS STENSSON _into the inner room._ LADY INGER. [_Pale and trembling._] But dare I——? [_A noise is heard in the room; she rushes with a scream towards the door._ No, no,—it must not be! [_A heavy fall is heard within; she covers her ears with her hands and hurries back across the hall with a wild look. After a pause she takes her hands cautiously away, listens again, and says softly:_ Now it is over. All is still within—— Thou sawest it, God—I repented me! But Olaf Skaktavl was too swift of hand. [OLAF SKAKTAVL _comes silently into the hall._ LADY INGER. [_After a pause, without looking at him._] Is it done? OLAF SKAKTAVL. You need fear him no more; he will betray no one. LADY INGER. [_As before._] Then he is dumb? OLAF SKAKTAVL. Six inches of steel in his breast. I felled him with my left hand. LADY INGER. Ay, ay—the right was too good for such work. OLAF SKAKTAVL. That is your affair;—the thought was yours.—And now to Sweden! Peace be with you meanwhile! When next we meet at Östråt, I shall bring another with me. [_Goes out by the furthest door on the right._ LADY INGER. Blood on my hands. Then ’twas to come to that!—He begins to be dear-bought now. [BIÖRN _comes in, with a number of Swedish_ MEN-AT-ARMS, _by the first door on the right._ ONE OF THE MEN-AT-ARMS. Pardon, if you are the lady of the house—— LADY INGER. Is it Count Sture ye seek? THE MAN-AT-ARMS. The same.