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[To .] My daughter Elina.

[Softly.] Elina! I had not pictured her thus.

[Touches her arm.] My child—this knight is

[Motions her mother back with her hand, still looking intently at him, and says:] There is no need! I see who he is. He is Nils Lykke.

[Aside, to .] How? Does she know me? Can Lucia have—? Can she know?

Hush! She knows nothing.

[To herself.] I knew it;—even so must Nils Lykke appear.

[Approaches her.] Yes, Elina Gyldenlöve,—you have guessed aright. And as it seems that, in some sense, you know me,—and, more