Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/52

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And the Danes killed him at Oslo-fiord?

If you know not that, ask any child of five.

So Knut Alfson was the last of our knighthood? And now he's dead and gone! [Holds up the helmet.] Well, thou must e'en be content to hang scoured and bright in the Banquet Hall; for what art thou now but an empty nut-shell? The kernel—the worms have eaten that many a winter agone.

What say you, Biörn—may not one call Norway's land an empty nut-shell, even like the helmet here; bright without, worm-eaten within?

Hold your peace, and mind your task!—Is the helmet ready?

It shines like silver in the moonlight.

Then put it by.—See here; scrape the rust off the sword.

[Turning the sword over and examining it.] Is it worth while?

What mean you?