. Do you know what he said?

Olof. No.

Lars. "I have got a harrier to raise the game; now it remains to be seen
whether he will come back when I whistle for him!"

Olof. Look at them--playing there among the graves, and picking flowers,
and singing the songs of Whitsuntide.

Lars (taking hold of Olof's arm). Child!

Olof (with a start). What did you say?

Lars. I thought you had laid your hand so firmly on the plough handle
to-day that there could be no question of looking back. (Olof waves his
hand to the scholars.) Are you still dreaming?

Olof. It was the last bright morning dream that passed away from me.
Pardon me--I am awake now!

[Exeunt toward the right. Then they are nearly out, Olof turns for a
last look at the scholars. These have disappeared in the meantime, and
in their place appear the two Black Friars, Marten and Nils. On seeing
them, Olof utters a startled cry and puts one hand to his forehead. Lars
drags him out.]

ACT II

SCENE 1

(A Room in the Foundation Wall of the Church of St. Nicolaus at
Stockholm (generally known as Greatchurch), used as a beer-shop. A bar
full of pots and mugs occupies the background. To the right of the bar
stands a table, back of which appears an iron door. Two disguised friars
(Marten and Nils) are seated at this table drinking beer. The other
tables are surrounded by German mercenaries, peasants, and sailors.
The door to the street is at the right. A fiddler is seated on top of
a barrel. The soldiers are throwing dice. All are drunk and noisy. Hans
Windrank, a man from Smaland, a German tradesman, and a Dane are seated
together at one of the tables.)

German (to the Dane). So you defend a bloodthirsty brute like Christian?

Dane. Oh, mercy, he's human, isn't he?

German. Not, he's a monster! A bloodthirsty brute! A treacherous,
cowardly Dane!

Dane. Zounds! But you'd better not talk of blood. Do you remember the
massacre on Kaeppling Island, when the Germans--

Windrank. Listen to me, good Sirs! Let's be friends now, and have some
fun, and I'll tell you about Americky.

German. Are you going to blame us of Luebeck for what the Germans did?

Dane. Oh, mercy, I was talking of the Germans only--

Windrank. Listen, good Sirs, what's the use of quarrelling? (To the
Tavern-keeper.) Four noggins of gin! Now let's be calm and agreeable,
and I'll tell you of Americky. (They are served.)

German (sipping). A noble drink! Think of it, good Sirs, how ev