Part 28 (1/2)

Mrten. Oh, we might, as our errand here is done, but I think it would be a pity to let the old woman die unsaved.

Nils. Unsaved?

Mrten. Yes!

Nils. Do you believe in that?

Mrten. It's hard to know what one is to believe nowadays. One dies happily in this faith, and another in that. All a.s.sert that they have found the truth.

Nils. And if you were to die now, Mrten?

Mrten. That's out of the question!

Nils. But if?

Mrten. Then I suppose I should go to heaven like the rest. But I should prefer to settle a small account with Master Olof first. You see, there is one pleasure that surpa.s.ses all the rest, and that's the pleasure of revenge.

Nils. What has he done to you?

Mrten. He has dared to see through me; he has exposed me; he can read what I am thinking--Oh!

Nils. And that's why you hate him?

Mrten. Isn't that enough? (Somebody is heard knocking on the door leading to the street.) Somebody is coming! Read, d.a.m.n you!

(Nils begins to drone out the same verse as before. The sound of a key being inserted in the lock is heard. The door is opened from the outside.)

[Enter Olof, looking greatly agitated.]

Mother (waking up). Father Mrten!

Olof (goes to the bed). Here is your son, mother! Why didn't you let me know that you were sick?

Mother. Farewell, Olof! I forgive you all the evil you have done to me, if you will not disturb the few moments I need to prepare myself for heaven. Father Mrten! Bring here the sacred ointment, so that I may die in peace.

Olof. So that's why you didn't call me! (He catches sight of the money bag which Mrten has forgotten to hide, and s.n.a.t.c.hes it away from the monk.) Oh, souls are being bartered here! And this was to be the price!

Leave this room and this death-bed! Here is my place, not yours!

Mrten. You mean to prevent us from fulfilling our office?

Olof. I am showing you the door!

Mrten. As long as we are not suspended, we are doing our duty here by the King's authority, and not by the Pope's.

Olof. I shall cleanse the Church of the lord without regard to the will of King or Pope.

Mother. Will you plunge my soul into perdition, Olof? Will you let me die with a curse?

Olof. Calm yourself, mother! You are not going to die in a lie. Seek your G.o.d in prayer, He is not so far away as you believe.

Mrten. A man who won't save his own mother from the pangs of purgatory must be the Devil's prophet indeed.