More to help, I say! Brother Kolbein has lain sick these five weeks,—he cannot have sinned much in that time——
Sira Viliam.
He was at shrift yesterday.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Eagerly.] Ay, he must be good; call him! [Viliam goes into the chapel again.] Within an hour! [Dries the sweat off his brow.] Pah—how hot it is here!—The miserable hound—what boots all his learning, when he cannot add an hour to my life? There sits he in his closet day by day, piecing together his cunning wheels and weights and levers; he thinks to fashion a machine that shall go and go and never stop—perpetuum mobile he calls it. Why not rather turn his art and his skill to making man such a perpetuum mobile? [Stops and thinks; his eyes light up.] Perpetuum mobile,—I am not strong in Latin—but it means somewhat that has power to work eternally, through all the ages. If I myself, now, could but——? That were a deed to end my life withal! That were to do my greatest deed in my latest hour! To set wheel and weight and lever at work in the King’s soul and the Duke’s; to set them a-going so that no power on earth can stop them; if I can but do that, then shall I live indeed, live in my work—and, when I think of it, mayhap ’tis that which is called immortality.—Comfortable, soothing thoughts, how ye do the old man good! [Draws a deep breath, and stretches himself comfortably upon the couch.] Diabolus has pressed me hard to-night. That comes of lying idle; olium est pulvis—pulveris—pooh, no matter for the Latin——Diabolus shall no longer have power over me; I will be busy to the last; I will——; how they bellow in yonder——[Knocks; Viliam comes out.] Tell them to hold their peace; they disturb me. The King and the Duke will soon be here; I have weighty matters to ponder.
Sira Viliam.
My lord, shall I then——?
Bishop Nicholas.
Bid them hold awhile, that I may think in peace. Look you, take up yonder letter that lies upon the floor.—Good. Reach me the papers here——
Sira Viliam.