(Several blows are struck on the iron door from the outside, causing general excitement.)
German. Don't get scared. That's not the gate of heaven.
Windrank. I'll never drink another drop--I vow and swear!
German (to the Dane). What a blessed drink gin must be, seeing it can move a rogue like that to sentimentality--nay, even to thoughts of sobriety.
Dane. You're right. There is nothing like it.
German. It opens the heart wide and closes the head. Which means that it makes good people of us, for those are called good, you know, who have much heart and little head.
Dane. I'd go still farther. Gin makes us religious. For it kills reason, and reason is the rock that keeps religion from entering our hearts.
(More blows are struck on the iron door.)
Windrank (who has fallen asleep, is awakened by the blows). Help! I die!
German. What a pity to lose such a sweet soul!
(The door is pushed open so that the table at which Mårten and Nils are seated is upset together with the mugs and cups on it. A woman wearing a red and black skirt, with a nun's veil thrown over her head, comes running into the room. For a moment Gert can be seen in the doorway behind her, but the door is immediately closed again.)
Harlot (with a startled glance at her surroundings). Save me! The people want to kill me!
A German Mercenary. A harlot under a nun's veil! Ha-ha-ha! (General laughter.)
Mårten (making the sign of the cross). A harlot! Who dares to bring her into this respectable company? Master taverner, take her out of here, or she'll hurt the good name of the place and the sanctity of the church.
Harlot. Will nobody here save me? (In the meantime the tavern-keeper has seized her by the arm to lead her into the street.) Don't give me into the hands of that furious mob! I wanted to steal into the Lord's house that I might share in His grace--I wanted to start a new life--but the monks drove me out and set the people on me--until Father Gert came and saved me.
Mårten. You can hear for yourselves. She has polluted the Lord's temple. She wants to hide the garment of shame beneath the veil of sanctity.
German. And there isn't enough of the veil.
Mårten (approaching the woman to tear the veil from her face). Off with the mask, and let your abomination be seen by all! (He draws back when he catches sight of her face.)