[Olof sits down. A young Courtier enters through the gallery and
salutes Olof.]

Courtier. Good morning, Secretary! Is nobody here yet? Well, how
is everything in Stockholm? I have just arrived from Malmo.

Olof. Oh, everything is going wrong here.

Courtier. So I have heard. The mob has been muttering as usual
whenever the King's back is turned. And then there are those fool
priests!--I beg your pardon, Secretary, but, of course, you are
a freethinker?

Olof. I don't quite understand.

Courtier. Don't mind me, please. You see, I have been educated in
Paris. Francis the First--O Saint-Sauveur!--that's a man who has
extreme views. Do you know what he told me at a bal masque
during the last carnival? (Olof remains silent.) "Monsieur," he
said, "la religion est morte, est morte," he said. Which didn't
keep him from attending mass.

Olof. Is that so?

Courtier. Do you know what he replied when I asked him why he did
so?--"Poetry! Poetry!" he said. Oh, he is divine!

Olof. What did you answer?

Courtier. "Your Majesty," I said--in French, of course--