Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/112



No summons, no

[Looking back into the house.]

His parch'd skin burns in fever-glow; His temples throb, his pulses race! Oh fear not, Agnes!

God of grace

Nay, have no fear

[Calls out over the road.]

The summons, see.

[Through the garden-gate.]

You must come now, priest!

Instantly! What message?

A mysterious one. Sitting in bed she forward bent, And said: "Get the priest here: begone! My half-goods for the sacrament."

[Starts back.]

Her half-goods! No! Say no!