ieve silently. The heavy ocean is splashing, tossing about,
spitting and snorting and sniffing peacefully. The sea is calm to-night
and alone, as always.

"Tell Haggart--" says the sad voice.

"Very well. I will tell Haggart."

"Tell Haggart that I love him."

Silence--and then a faint, plaintive reproach resounds softly:

"If your voice were not so grave, sir, I would have thought that you
were laughing at me. Am I not Haggart that I should tell something to
Haggart? But no--I sense a different meaning in your words, and you
frighten me again. And when Haggart is afraid, it is real terror. Very
well, I will tell Haggart everything you have said."

"Adjust my cloak; my shoulder is cold. But it always seems to me that
the light over there is going out. You called it the lighthouse of the
Holy Cross, if I am not mistaken?"

"Yes, it is called so here."

"Aha! It is called so here."

Silence.

"Must I go now?" asks Haggart.

"Yes, go."

"And you will remain here?"

"I will remain here."

Haggart retreats several steps.

"Good-bye, sir."

"Good-bye, Haggart."

Again the cobblestones rattle under his cautious steps; without looking
back, Haggart climbs the steep rocks.

Of what great sorrow speaks this night?

CHAPTER V

"Your hands are in blood, Haggart. Whom have you killed, Haggart?"

"Silence, Khorre, I killed that man. Be silent and listen--he will
commence to play soon. I stood here and listened, but suddenly my heart
sank, and I cannot stay here alone."

"Don't confuse my mind, Noni; don't tempt me. I will run away from here.
At night, when I am already fast asleep, you swoop down on me like a
demon, grab me by the neck, and drag me over here--I can't understand
anything. Tell me, my boy, is it necessary to hide the body?"

"Yes, yes."

"Why didn't you throw it into the sea?"

"Silence! What are you prating about? I have nothing to throw into the
sea."

"But your hands are in blood."

"Silence, Khorre! He will commence soon. Be silent and listen--I say to
you--Are you a friend to me or not, Khorre?"

He drags him closer to the dark window of the church. Khorre mutters:

"How dark it is. If you raised me out of bed for this accursed music--"

"Yes, yes; for this accursed music."

"Then you have disturbed my honest sleep in vain; I want no music,
Noni."

"So! Was I perhaps to run through the street, knock at the windows and
shout: 'Eh, who is there; where's a living sou