Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 2).djvu/319



Wind the horn, wind the horn! [The Hornblower does so.] You blew better, you whelp, when you blew for money on Bergen wharf. [The Hornblower winds another blast, louder than the first; many men come rushing in.

[''From the right, fleeing towards the church, pursued by a Birchleg.''] Spare my life! Spare my life!

Not though you sat on the altar! [''Cuts him down.''] 'Tis a costly cloak you wear, methinks 'twill fit me well. [''Is about to take the cloak, but utters a cry and casts away his sword.''] My lord King! Not another stroke will I strike for you!

You say that in such an hour as this?

Not another stroke!

[Cuts him down.] Well, you may e'en let it alone.

[Pointing to the dead Vårbælg.] Methought I had done enough when I slew my own brother.

[Dies.

His brother!