Olof. I see! And the new faith which he has permitted me to preach so far?
Courtier. It is to ripen slowly.--It will come! It will come!
Courtier (rising). No. If you will only keep calm now, you may go very far. Oh, yes--I came near forgetting the best part of all. My dear Pastor, permit me to congratulate you! Here is your appointment. Pastor of the city church, with an income of three thousand, at your age--indeed, you could now settle down in peace and enjoy life, even if you were never to get any further. It is splendid to have reached one's goal while still so young. I congratulate you! [Exit.]
Olof (flinging the appointment on the floor). So this is all that I have fought and suffered for! An appointment! A royal appointment! I have been serving Belial instead of God! Woe be to you, false King, who have sold your Lord and God! Alas for me, who have sold my life and my labors to mammon! O God in Heaven, forgive me! (He throws himself, weeping, on a bench.)
[Enter Christine and Gert. Christine comes forward, while Gert remains in the background.]
Christine (picks up the appointment and reads it; then she runs to Olof, her face beaming). Now, Olof, I can wish you joy with a happy heart! (She starts to caress him, but he leaps to his feet and pushes her away.)
Gert (coming forward). Well, Olof, the faith--
Gert. The Pope is beaten, isn't he? Hadn't we better begin with the Emperor soon?
Olof. You were right, Gert! I am with you now! It's war, but it must be open and honest.
Gert. Until to-day you have been dreaming childish dreams.
Olof. I know it. Now the flood is coming! Let it come! Alas for them and for us!
Christine. Olof, for Heaven's sake, stop!
Olof. Leave me, child! Here you will be drowned, or you will drag me down.
Gert. What made you venture out in the storm, my child?
(The ringing of bells, the joyful shouting of crowds, and the sounding of drums and trumpets become audible.)
Olof (going to the window). What has set the people shouting?
Gert. The King is providing them with a maypole and music outside North Gate.
Olof. And are they not aware that he will chasten them with swords instead of rods?
Olof. Poor children! They dance to his piping and follow his drums to their death! Must all die, then, in order that one may live?