Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 2).djvu/331



You must, my noble father!

Well, be it so. [''Goes to the window and draws the curtain aside, but lets it go quickly and starts back in terror.''] There hangs the flaming sword over me again!

It bodes that the sword of victory is drawn for you.

Ah, were it but so! [''Goes to the window and speaks out.''] Trönders, what would you? Here stands your King.

[Without.] Leave the town! The Birchlegs will burn and slay if they find you here.

We must all hold together. I have been a gracious King to you; I have craved but small war-tax

[Down in the crowd.] What call you all the blood, then, that flowed at Låka and Oslo?

Give me my betrothed again!

Give me my father and my brother!

Give me my three sons, King Skule!