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The strangest of all is that Lady Inger thinks the same

[Starting.] Lady Inger? What does she think?

What Lady Inger thinks? I warrant few can tell. But sure it is that she has no rest in her. See you not how day by day she grows thinner and paler? [Looks keenly at him.] They say she never sleeps—and that it is because of the black figure

And you believe such follies?

Well, half and half. There be folk, too, that read things another way. But that is pure malice, I'll be bound.—Hearken, Biörn—know you the song that is going round the country?

A song?

Ay, 'tis on all folks' lips. 'Tis a shameful scurril thing, for sure; yet it goes prettily. Just listen: