Woman. Don't you see, it's he who was put under the ban--

Townsman. Gert the Printer--the bishop's printer--

Another Townsman. The man who printed Luther!

Woman. Woe unto us and to our city! Woe to our priests when they bear company with Antichrist!

Townsman. He denies the holy baptism!

Woman. He denies G.o.d. (The crowd disperses.)

Olof. That was dangerous talk, Father Gert.

Gert. You really think it was dangerous, Olof? Bless you for those words!

Olof. Dangerous for you, I mean.

Gert. Not for any one else?

Olof. Let us hope not.

Gert. You have known Luther?

Olof. Indeed, I have! And now I want to carry out his work in my own country.

Gert. Is that all?

Olof. What do you mean?

Gert. It is not enough! Luther is dead. He made a beginning, we have to go on.

Olof. Whither do you want to lead me?

Gert. Far, Olof, very far!

Olof. I am afraid of you, Father Gert.

Gert. Yes, and will be more so; for I shall take you up on a high mountain, and from there you shall overlook the whole world. You see, Olof, it is now Whitsuntide; it was at this time the Holy Ghost came down and filled the Apostles--nay, all humanity. The spirit of the Lord has descended upon me. I feel it, and for that reason they shut me up like one demented. But now I am free again, and now I shall speak the word; for now, Olof, we are standing on the mountain. Behold the people crawling on their knees before those two men seated on their thrones.

The taller holds two keys in one hand and a thunderbolt in the other.

That is the Pope. Now he hurls his thunderbolt, and a thousand souls pa.s.s into perdition, while the rest kiss his foot and sing Gloria Deo--but he who is seated on the throne turns about and smiles. Now behold his companion. He has a sword and at sceptre. Bow down before the sceptre, lest the sword smite you. When he knits his brows all the people tremble. (He turns toward the man on the other throne, and both smile.) They are two pillars of Baal. Then is heard a sound out of heaven as of a host muttering. "Who is grumbling?" exclaims the Pope, shaking his thunderbolt. "Who is muttering?"--and the Emperor shakes his sword. n.o.body answers, but still there is grumbling in the air, and roaring, and a cry of "Think!" The Pope cowers, and the Emperor, turning pale, demands: "Who was it that cried 'Think'? Bring him here, and I will take his life!" The Pope shouts: "Bring him here, and I will take his soul!" The cry came out of heaven, and was uttered by no one. But still the sound of it rises; a storm wind springs up; it sweeps over the Alps and goes roaring across Fichtelgebirge; it stirs up the Baltic and echoes from the sh.o.r.es, and the cry is repeated a thousand times all over the world: "Freedom, freedom!" The Pope throws his keys into the sea, and the Emperor sheathes his sword, for against that cry they avail nothing.--Oh, Olof, you wish to smite the Pope, but you forget the Emperor--the Emperor, who is killing his people without counting them because they dare to sigh when he tramples on their chests. You want to smite the Pope at Rome, but, like Luther, you want to give them a new pope in Holy Writ. Listen! Listen! Bind not the spirits with any fetters whatsoever! Forget not the great Whitsunday! Forget not your great goal: spiritual life and spiritual freedom! Listen not to the cry of death: "And behold, it is all good!" For then the millennium, the kingdom of liberty, will never arrive--and it is that which is now beginning. (Olof remains silent.) Does it make you dizzy?

Olof. You go too far, Gert.

Gert. The day shall come when they will call me papist. Aim at the sky, and you will hit the forest line ahead of you.

Olof. Turn back, Gert! You'll bring disaster on yourself and on the realm. Can't you see how the country is still shivering with the wound-fever caused by the last war? And you wish to sow the seeds of civil war. It is a G.o.dless deed!

Gert. No, the knife is in the flesh now. Cut away, and the body may be saved.

Olof. I'll denounce you as a traitor to your country.

Gert. You had better not, seeing that to-day you have offended the Church beyond repair. Besides--

Olof. Speak out, Gert. Just now you look like Satan himself!

Gert. You shall have my secret: deal with it to suit yourself. The King leaves for Malmo to-day, and the day after to-morrow, perchance, Stockholm may be in open revolt.

Olof. What are you talking about?

Gert. Do you know Rink and Knipperdollink?

Olof (alarmed). The Anabaptists!

Gert. Yes. What's so startling in that? They are nothing but a couple of lubberly tradesmen. A furrier and a grocer, who deny the use of baptizing unconscious children, and who are simple-minded enough to oppose the forcing of irrational creatures into deliberate perjury.

Olof. That is not all.

Gert. What is it, then?

Olof. They are possessed.

Gert. Of the spirit, yes. It is the storm wind that is crying through them. Beware, if you get into its path!

Olof. This must be stopped. I am going to the King.

Gert. We should be friends, Olof. Your mother is living in Stockholm, isn't she?

Olof. You know it, then?

Gert. Do you know that my daughter Christine is with your mother?

Olof. Christine?

Gert. Yes, for the present. If we win, your mother will be protected for my daughter's sake; and if the Catholics win, my daughter will be protected for your mother's sake. You are a little concerned about Christine, are you not?

Olof. Gert, Gert, what made you so wise?

Gert. The madhouse.

Olof. Go away from me! You'll lead me into disaster.

Gert. Yes, if you call it a disaster to be robbed of all earthly happiness, to be dragged into prison, to suffer poverty, to be scorned and reviled fur the sake of truth. If so, you are not worthy of such a splendid disaster. I thought you would understand me, I counted on your help, for in you the fire is still burning, but I see that the world is tempting you. Well, follow the stream and be happy!

Olof. How could a man make over the age in which he is living?

Gert. That's what Luther has done.

Olof. How can one man check a stream?