and thee."

Olof. Why do not you go?

Lars. I am too old.

Olof. You are afraid!

Lars. I am, for I have not the strength; but you have--and now may the
Lord give you the faith also.

Olof. Oh, once I did have the flame of faith, and it burned wondrously,
but the monkish gang smothered it with their holy water when they were
trying to read the devil out of my body.

Lars. That was a fire of straw which had to flicker out; but now
the Lord will light you a fire of logs by which the offspring of the
Philistines shall be consumed. Do you know your own will, Olof?

Olof. No, but I feel myself choking when I think of these poor
people who yearn for salvation. They are crying for water--for living
water--but there is no one who can give it to them.

Lars. Tear down the crumbling old house first, you can do that. Then the
Lord Himself will build them a new one.

Olof. Then they will be without a roof over their heads for a time.

Lars. They will at least get fresh air.

Olof. But to rob a whole nation of its faith--they will despair.

Lars. Yes, they will despair.

Olof. But they will decry me, and revile me, and drag me before the
elders.

Lars. Are you afraid?

Olof. No--but the offence--

Lars. You were born to give offence, Olof; you were born to smite. The
Lord will heal.

Olof. I can feel the pull of the current; I am still clinging to the
sluice-gate, but if I let go, I shall be swept away.

Lars. Let go! There are more than enough who hold back.

Olof. Reach out your hand to me, Lars, if I get too far into the
whirlpool.

Lars. That is not in my power, and into the whirlpool you must go, even
if it be to perish.

Olof. What storms you have raised in my soul! A moment ago I sat here
and played in the shadow of the trees, and it was Whitsun Eve, and it
was spring, and all was peace. And now--how can the trees be still, and
why is there no darkness in the sky? Put your hand on my forehead,
feel the blood surging! Do not abandon me, Lars! I see an angel coming
towards me with a cup--she is walking across the evening sky--her path
is blood-red, and in her hand she is carrying a cross--No, it is more
than I avail! I will return to my peaceful valley. Let others fight; I
will look on--No, I will follow in their wake and heal the wounded and
whisper words of peace into the ears of the dying--Peace!--No, I want to
fight with the rest, but in the last ranks--Why should I lead?

Lars. Because you are