Sexton. A plague on your tongue! [Exeunt.]
(The Sacristy of the Church of St. Nicolaus. There is a door leading to the church, and another, smaller one, leading to the pulpit. The walls are hung with chasubles and surplices. Priedieus and a few small chests are standing about. The sunlight is pouring in through a window. The church bells are heard ringing. Through the wall at the left can be heard a constant murmuring. The Sexton and his Wife enter, stop near the door, and pray silently.)
Sexton. That's enough! Now, Catherine dear, you'd better hurry up and do some dusting.
Wife. Oh, there's no special occasion. It's nobody but that Master Olof who's going to preach to-day. Really, I can't see why the Chapter allows it.
Sexton. Because he's got permission from the King, you see.
Wife. Well, well!
Sexton. And then he has had a sort of basket built out from the wall—nothing but new-fangled tricks! It's all on account of that man Luther.
Wife. I suppose we'll have the same kind of trouble that we had yesterday. I thought they were going to pull the whole church down.
Sexton (carrying a glass of water up to the pulpit). I'm sure the poor fellow will need something to wet his whistle to-day.
Wife. Well, I shouldn't bother, if I were you.