Caransius: Yet, mistress, it is better to strike against orders than
to leave one's friends and, like my dog, follow the marching men.
[_A cry bursts from Bran. He seizes Caransius. Gleva stands with
her hand upon her knife. Then she turns away, and buries her face
in her hands. A whistle is heard from the hillside above her on the
left. She looks up, and her face changes. She turns to third
attendant._]
Gleva: Go up the hill--close to the camp, as close as you can creep,
and watch. So may you earn your pardon. (_He goes off_.) You two stand
aside--but not so far but that a cry may bring you instantly.