Don't be in a hurry," roars the priest. "Be bound awhile, drunkard! You
had better be afraid of an untied rope--it may be formed into a noose."

But obeying a certain swift movement or glance of Haggart, Mariet walks
over to the sailor and opens the knots of the rope. And again all look
in silence upon her bent, alarmed head. Then they turn their eyes upon
Haggart. Just as they looked at the little ship before, so they now look
at him. And he, too, has forgotten about the toy. As if aroused from
sleep, he surveys the fishermen, and stares long at the dark curtain.

ABBOT--Haggart, I am asking you. Who carried Philipp's body?

HAGGART--I. I brought it and put it near the door, his head against the
door, his face against the sea. It was hard to set him that way, he was
always falling down. But I did it.

ABBOT--Why did you do it?

HAGGART--I don't know exactly. I heard that Philipp has a mother, an
old woman, and I thought this might please them better--both him and his
mother.

ABBOT--(With restraint.) You are laughing at us?

HAGGART--No. What makes you think I am laughing? I am just as serious as
you are. Did he--did Philipp make this little ship?

No one answers. Mariet, rising and bending over to Haggart across the
table, says:

"Didn't you say this, Haggart: 'My poor boy, I killed you because I
had to kill you, and now I am going to take you to your mother, my dear
boy'?"

"These are very sad words. Who told them to you, Mariet?" asks Haggart,
surprised.

"I heard them. And didn't you say further: 'Mother, I have brought you
your son, and put him down at your door--take your boy, mother'?"

Haggart maintains silence.

"I don't know," roars the abbot bitterly. "I don't know; people don't
kill here, and we don't know how it is done. Perhaps that is as it
should be--to kill and then bring the murdered man to his mother's
threshold. What are you gaping at, you scarecrow?"

Khorre replies rudely:

"According to my opinion, he should have thrown him into the sea. Your
Haggart is out of his mind; I have said it long ago."

Suddenly old Desfoso shouts amid the loud approval of the others:

"Hold your tongue! We will send him to the city, but we will hang you
like a cat ourselves, even if you did not kill him."

"Silence, old man, silence!" the abbot stops him, while Khorre looks
over their heads with silent contempt. "Haggart, I am asking you, why
did you take Philipp's life? He needed his life just as