God. May a thunder strike you down! What are you doing with my heart?
You are tearing it with your teeth like greedy dogs. You didn't drink
enough blood, Gart, drink mine, then! You will never have enough, Gart,
isn't that true?"

"Now, now," says the abbot, calming them. "Take him home, Mariet. Go
home, Gart, and sleep more."

Mariet comes forward, goes to the door and pauses there.

"Gart! I am going to little Noni."

"Go."

"Are you coming along with me?"

"Yes--no--later."

"I am going to little Noni. What shall I tell him about his father when
he wakes up?"

Haggart is silent. Khorre comes back and stops irresolutely at the
threshold. Mariet casts at him a glance full of contempt and then goes
out. Silence.

"Khorre!"

"Yes."

"Gin!"

"Here it is, Noni. Drink it, my boy, but not all at once, not all at
once, Noni."

Haggart drinks; he examines the room with a smile.

"Nobody. Did you see him, Khorre? He is there, behind the curtain. Just
think of it, sailor--here we are again with him alone."

"Go home, Noni!"

"Right away. Give me some gin."

He drinks.

"And they? They have gone?"

"They ran, Noni. Go home, my boy! They ran off like goats. I was
laughing so much, Noni."

Both laugh.

"Take down that toy, Khorre. Yes, yes, a little ship. He made it,
Khorre."

They examine the toy.

"Look how skilfully the jib was made, Khorre. Good boy, Philipp! But the
halyards are bad, look. No, Philipp! You never saw how real ships are
fitted out--real ships which rove over the ocean, tearing its grey
waves. Was it with this toy that you wanted to quench your little
thirst--fool?"

He throws down the little ship and rises:

"Khorre! Boatswain!"

"Yes."

"Call them! I assume command again, Khorre!"

The sailor turns pale and shouts enthusiastically:

"Noni! Captain! My knees are trembling. I will not be able to reach them
and I will fall on the way."

"You will reach them! We must also take our money away from these
people--what do you think, Khorre? We have played a little, and now it
is enough--what do you think, Khorre?"

He laughs. The sailor looks at him, his hands folded as in prayer, and
he weeps.

CHAPTER VII

"These are your comrades, Haggart? I am so glad to see them. You said,
Gart, yes--you said that their faces were entirely different from the
faces of our people, and that is true. Oh, how true it is! Our people
have handsome faces, too--don't think our fishe