Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/88

 Ah—is not that some one riding through the gateway?

No; not yet. Only the wind; it blows cold as the grave

Has God a right to do this?—To make me a woman—and then to lay on my shoulders a man's work?

For I  the welfare of the country in my hands. It is in my power to make them rise as one man. They look to  for the signal; and if I give it not now—it may never be given.

To delay? To sacrifice the many for the sake of one?—Were it not better if I could? No, no, no—I  not! I !

I can see them in there now. Pale spectres—dead ancestors—fallen kinsfolk.—Ah, those eyes that pierce me from every corner!

Sten Sture! Knut Alfson! Olaf Skaktavl! Back—back!—I  do this!

[Stops in the doorway, and says in a low voice.] Hail to you, Inger Gyldenlöve!