has seen many shipwrecks, and now it is inventing. The
wind itself is crying; the wind itself is scolding and sobbing; and the
wind itself is laughing--the rogue! But if you think that this rag
with which I have covered the window is a sail, and that this ruin of
a castle is a three-masted brig, you are a fool! We are not going
anywhere! We are standing securely at our moorings, do you hear?"

He pushes the sleeping man cautiously.

"Get up, Noni. I feel lonesome. If we must drink, let's drink
together--I feel lonesome. Noni!"

Haggart awakens, stretches himself and says, without opening his eyes:

"Fire."

"Here it is."

"Something to drink."

"Here it is! A fine wind, Noni. I looked out of the window, and the sea
splashed into my eyes. It is high tide now and the water-dust flies up
to the tower. I feel lonesome, Noni. I want to speak to you. Don't be
angry!"

"It's cold."

"Soon the fire will burn better. I don't understand your actions. Don't
be angry, Noni, but I don't understand your actions! I am afraid that
you have lost your mind."

"Did you drink again?"

"I did."

"Give me some."

He drinks from the mouth of the bottle lying on the floor, his eyes
wandering over the crooked mutilated walls, whose every projection and
crack is now lighted by the bright flame in the fireplace. He is not
quite sure yet whether he is awake, or whether it is all a dream. With
each strong gust of wind the flame is hurled from the fireplace, and
then the entire tower seems to dance--the last shadows melt and rush off
into the open door.

"Don't drink it all at once, Noni! Not all at once!" says the sailor and
gently takes the bottle away from him. Haggart seats himself and clasps
his head with both hands.

"I have a headache. What is that cry? Was there a shipwreck?"

"No, Noni. It is the wind playing roguishly."

"Khorre!"

"Captain."

"Give me the bottle."

He drinks a little more and sets the bottle on the table. Then he paces
the room, straightening his shoulders and his chest, and looks out of
the window. Khorre looks over his shoulder and whispers:

"Not a single light. It is dark and deserted. Those who had to die have
died already, and the cautious cowards are sitting on the solid earth."

Haggart turns around and says, wiping his face:

"When I am intoxicated, I hear voices and singing. Does that happen to
you, too, Khorre? Who is that singing now?"

"The wind is singing, Noni--only the win