go far--he sits down upon
a neighbouring rock. Haggart and his wife look at him.

CHAPTER III

The work is ended. Having lost its gloss, the last neglected fish lies
on the ground; even the children are too lazy to pick it up; and an
indifferent, satiated foot treads it into the mud. A quiet, fatigued
conversation goes on, mingled with gay and peaceful laughter.

"What kind of a prayer is our abbot going to say to-day? It is already
time for him to come."

"And do you think it is so easy to compose a good prayer? He is
thinking."

"Selly's basket broke and the fish were falling out. We laughed so much!
It seems so funny to me even now!"

Laughter. Two fishermen look at the sail in the distance.

"All my life I have seen large ships sailing past us. Where are they
going? They disappear beyond the horizon, and I go off to sleep; and I
sleep, while they are forever going, going. Where are they going? Do you
know?"

"To America."

"I should like to go with them. When they speak of America my heart
begins to ring. Did you say America on purpose, or is that the truth?"

Several old women are whispering:

"Wild Gart is angry again at his sailor. Have you noticed it?"

"The sailor is displeased. Look, how wan his face is."

"Yes, he looks like the evil one when he is compelled to listen to a
psalm. But I don't like Wild Gart, either. No. Where did he come from?"

They resume their whispers. Haggart complains softly:

"Why have you the same name, Mariet, for everybody? It should not be so
in a truthful land."

Mariet speaks with restrained force, pressing both hands to her breast:

"I love you so dearly, Gart; when you go out to sea, I set my teeth
together and do not open them until you come back. When you are away, I
eat nothing and drink nothing; when you are away, I am silent, and the
women laugh: 'Mute Mariet!' But I would be insane if I spoke when I am
alone."

HAGGART--Here you are again compelling me to smile. You must not,
Mariet--I am forever smiling.

MARIET--I love you so dearly, Gart. Every hour of the day and the night
I am thinking only of what I could still give to you, Gart. Have I not
given you everything? But that is so little--everything! There is but
one thing I want to do--to keep on giving to you, giving! When the sun
sets, I present you the sunset; when the sun rises, I present you the
sunrise--take it, Gart! And are not all the storms yours? Ah, Haggart,
how I love you!