Olof. I pride myself on being one.
Knipperdollink. And yet take service with the King?
Olof. Yes!
(The Anabaptists raise an outcry and surround Olof.)
[Enter Gert quickly through the door in the rear.]
Gert. Hold! What are you doing?
Knipperdollink. Gert!—Who is this man?
Gert. One of our own. Let him go, friends! Over there you see the emissaries of the Devil!
(He points to Mårten and Nils, who flee through the street door, closely pursued by the Anabaptists. At the door Gert stops and turns toward Olof. The Harlot is crouching in a corner of the room. Windrank is still sleeping under one of the tables. Olof is standing in the middle of the floor, sunk in deep thought.)
Gert (exhausted, throws himself on a bench). It's heavy work, Olof.