He tempts God! Mark what I foretell.
Brand.
Your God ne’er wrought a miracle!
Women.
See, see! the storm!
Voices among the Throng.
Stab,—stone him! chase
The flinty fellow from the place!
[The peasants close menacingly round Brand. The Mayor intervenes. A Woman, wild and dishevelled, comes hurriedly down the slopes.]
The Woman.