The Bishop dead and the letter burnt! A life full of doubt and strife and dread! Oh, could I but pray!—No—I must act; this evening must the stride be taken, once for all! [To Viliam.] Whither went the King?
Sira Viliam.
[Terrified.] Christ save me,—what would you with him?
Duke Skule.
Think you I would slay him to-night?
[Goes out to the right.
Sira Viliam.
[Looks after him, shaking his head, while the house-folk bear the body out to the left.] Seven more masses, the Bishop said; I think ’twere safest we should say fourteen.
[Follows the others.