Agnes.
[Vehemently.]
For what a mother needs must do!
Gerd.
[Runs by outside and stops at the garden-gate; claps her hands and cries in wild joy.]
Have you heard? The priest’s flown off.—
Up from hillocks, out of howes,
Swarm the demons and the Drows,
Black and ugly, big and little—
Ugh, how fierce they cut and cuff—!