Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/228



[Starts up.] The ring? The ring!

Sten Sture's ring! [With a shriek.] Oh God, oh God—my son!

Her son?

[At the same time.] Inger Gyldenlöve's son?

So is it.

But why did you not tell me?

[Trying to raise her up.] Help! help! My lady—what ails you? what lack you?

[In a faint voice, half raising herself.] What lack I? One coffin more. A grave beside my child