Courtier. It is to ripen slowly.—It will come! It will come!
Olof. Is there anything more?
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.)
Olof. Leave me alone! You, too!
Gert (coming forward). Well, Olof, the faith—
Olof. The lack of faith, you mean!
Gert. The Pope is beaten, isn't he? Hadn't we better begin with the Emperor soon?