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Another Woman.
He tempts God! Mark what I foretell.
Brand.
<g>Your</g> God ne'er wrought a miracle!
Women.
See, see! the storm!
Voices among the Throng.
Stab,—stone him! chase
The flinty fellow from the place!
[The peasants close menacingly round Brand. The
Mayor intervenes. A Woman, wild and dishevelled,
comes hurriedly down the slopes.]
The Woman.
[Crying out towards the throng.]
Oh, where is help, for Jesus' grace!
The Mayor.
What do you need? Explain your case.
The Woman.
Nothing I need; no alms I seek,
But oh, the horror, horror
The Mayor.
Speak!
The Woman.
I have no voice,—O comfort, aid!
Where is the priest?
The Mayor.
Here there is none—
