German. Does it hurt your conscience, skipper? The King doesn't know it, you see.

Windrank. But they don't go together, the organ music and the singing in here. I've always been a G.o.d-fearing man, ever since I was at home.

German (ironically). Happy the man brought up in that way! You had a mother--

Windrank (moved). Yes--yes!

German. Who tucked you up nights and taught you to say: "Now I lay me down to sleep."

Windrank. That's it!

German. And a fine woman she was!

Windrank (on whom the drink is beginning to show its effect.) Oh, if you only knew!

German. The Lord has heard her prayers. You're weeping. So you must be a good man.

Dane. Dear me!

German. If your mother could only see you now--with those tears in your eyes!

Windrank. Oh, I know I'm a poor miserable sinner--I know it! But I tell you--I've got a heart, d.a.m.n it! Just let a poor wretch come and tell me he is hungry, and I'll take off my own shirt and give it to him.

German. How about another drink?

Windrank. No, I don't think so.

(Several blows are struck on the iron door from the outside, causing general excitement.)

Windrank. G.o.d-a-mercy!

German. Don't get scared. That's not the gate of heaven.

Windrank. I'll never drink another drop--I vow and swear!

German (to the Dane). What a blessed drink gin must be, seeing it can move a rogue like that to sentimentality--nay, even to thoughts of sobriety.

Dane. You're right. There is nothing like it.

German. It opens the heart wide and closes the head. Which means that it makes good people of us, for those are called good, you know, who have much heart and little head.

Dane. I'd go still farther. Gin makes us religious. For it kills reason, and reason is the rock that keeps religion from entering our hearts.

German. Most holy is gin! Strange that--

Dane. You need say no more!

(More blows are struck on the iron door.)

Windrank (who has fallen asleep, is awakened by the blows). Help! I die!

German. What a pity to lose such a sweet soul!

(The door is pushed open so that the table at which Mrten and Nils are seated is upset together with the mugs and cups on it. A woman wearing a red and black skirt, with a nun's veil thrown over her head, comes running into the room. For a moment Gert can be seen in the doorway behind her, but the door is immediately closed again.)

Harlot (with a startled glance at her surroundings). Save me! The people want to kill me!

A German Mercenary. A harlot under a nun's veil! Ha-ha-ha! (General laughter.)

Mrten (making the sign of the cross). A harlot! Who dares to bring her into this respectable company? Master taverner, take her out of here, or she'll hurt the good name of the place and the sanct.i.ty of the church.

Harlot. Will n.o.body here save me? (In the meantime the tavern-keeper has seized her by the arm to lead her into the street.) Don't give me into the hands of that furious mob! I wanted to steal into the Lord's house that I might share in His grace--I wanted to start a new life--but the monks drove me out and set the people on me--until Father Gert came and saved me.

Mrten. You can hear for yourselves. She has polluted the Lord's temple.

She wants to hide the garment of shame beneath the veil of sanct.i.ty.

German. And there isn't enough of the veil.

Mrten (approaching the woman to tear the veil from her face). Off with the mask, and let your abomination be seen by all! (He draws back when he catches sight of her face.)

Harlot. So it's you, Mrten--you murderer!

German. Old chums!

Mrten. That's a shameless lie! I never have seen her before. I am Brother Mrten, of the Dominicans, and Brother Nils here can be my witness.

Nils (intoxicated). I can testify--that Brother Mrten has never seen this woman.

Harlot. And yet it was you, Nils, who showed me Mrten's letter of absolution when I was driven out of the convent and he was permitted to stay.

Nils. Yes--come to think of it!

Mrten (in a rage, pulling Nils by the sleeve). You're lying--you, too!

Can't you see he is drunk?

German. My dear folks, I can testify that the reverend brother is drunk, and that's why he is lying!

Crowd (with signs of disgust). A drunken priest!

German. Well, booze is absolution for lying. Isn't that so, Father Mrten?

Tavern-keeper. Really, I can't let my house be the meeting-place for any kind of disturbance. If this goes on, I'll lose my customers and get hauled before the Chapter. Won't you please take away that miserable creature who's causing all this noise?

Mrten. Take her out, or I'll have you all banned! Don't you know that we are now within the consecrated walls of the church, although the Chapter allows this outhouse to be used for the material refreshment of travellers?

German. Surely this room is holy, good folk, and surely the Lord doth dwell here.

(The crowd begins to drag the Harlot toward the street door.)