Townsmen.
[Knocking at the gate.] Open! Come out, you and the church-robber, else will we burn the convent down!
King Skule.
[As if seized by a strong resolution.] The great king's-thought! 'Tis <g>that</g> has poisoned your young loving soul! Pure and blameless I was to give you back; 'tis faith in me that drives you thus wildly from crime to crime, from deadly sin to deadly sin! Oh, but I can save you yet: I can save us all! [Calls toward the background.] Wait, wait, ye townsmen without there: I come!
Margrete.
[Seizing his hand in terror.] My father! what would you do?
Lady Ragnhild.
[Clinging to him with a shriek.] Skule!
Sigrid.
[Tears them away from him, and calls with wild, radiant joy.] Loose him, loose him, women;—now his thought puts forth wings!
King Skule.
[Firmly and forcibly, to Peter.] You saw in me the heaven-chosen one,—him who should do the great king's-work in the land. Look at me better, misguided boy! The rags of kingship I have decked myself withal, they were borrowed and stolen—now I put them off me, one by one.
