_She sits down again and begins writing, but pushes the paper away again, and leans back in her chair._ There is ever an eerie feeling in a house where lies a corpse. ’Tis therefore my mood is so strange. [_Turns her head to one side as if speaking to some one._] Not therefore? Why else should it be? [_Broodingly._ Is there such a great gulf, then, between openly striking down a foe and slaying one—thus? Knut Alfson had cleft many a brow with his sword; yet was his own as peaceful as a child’s. Why then do I ever see this—[_makes a motion as though striking with a knife_]—-this stab in the heart—and the gush of red blood after? _Rings, and goes on speaking while shifting about her papers._ Hereafter I will have nought to do with such ugly sights. I will be at work both day and night. And in a month—in a month my son will be here—— BIÖRN. [_Entering._] Did you strike the bell, my lady? LADY INGER. [_Writing._] Bring more lights. See to it in future that there are many lights in the room. [BIÖRN _goes out again to the left._ LADY INGER. _After a pause, rises impetuously._] No, no, no;—I cannot guide the pen to-night! My head is burning and throbbing—— [_Startled, listens._ What is _that_? Ah, they are screwing the lid on the coffin. They told me when I was a child the story of Sir Aage,[22] who rose up and walked with his coffin on his back.—If _he_ in there bethought him one night to come with the coffin on his back, and thank me for the loan? [_Laughs quietly._] H’m—what have we grown people to do with childish fancies? [_Vehemently._] Nevertheless, such stories do no good! They give uneasy dreams. When my son is king, they shall be forbidden. _Paces up and down once or twice; then opens the window._ How long is it, commonly, ere a body begins to rot? All the rooms must be aired. ’Tis not wholesome here till that be done. BIÖRN _comes in with two lighted branch-candlesticks, which he places on the tables._ LADY INGER. [_Who has set to work at the papers again._] It is well. See you forget not what I have said. Many lights on the table! What are they about now in there? BIÖRN. They are still screwing down the coffin-lid. LADY INGER.