se of its inmost neighbourship the
heavy castle grows darker, and the light in its window seems redder and
darker.

"Good night, Mariet," says the girl who sat alone, and then she goes
off.

"Let us also go; it is getting cold," say the other two, rising. "Good
night, Mariet."

"Good night."

"Why are you alone, Mariet? Why are you alone, Mariet, in the daytime
and at night, on week days and on merry holidays? Do you love to think
of your betrothed?"

"Yes, I do. I love to think of Philipp."

The girl laughs.

"But you don't want to see him. When he goes out to sea, you look at
the sea for hours; when he comes back--you are not there. Where are you
hiding yourself?"

"I love to think of Philipp."

"Like a blind man he gropes among the houses, forever calling: 'Mariet!
Mariet! Have you not seen Mariet?'"

They go off laughing and repeating:

"Good night, Mariet. 'Have you not seen Mariet! Mariet!'"

The girl is left alone. She looks at the light in the castle. She hears
soft, irresolute footsteps.

Old Dan, of small stature, slim, a coughing old man with a clean-shaven
face, comes out from behind the church. Because of his irresoluteness,
or because of the weakness of his eyes, he steps uncertainly, touching
the ground cautiously and with a certain degree of fear.

"Oho! Oho!"

"Is that you, Dan?"

"The sea is calm, Dan. Are you going to play to-night?"

"Oho! I shall ring the bell seven times. Seven times I shall ring it and
send to God seven of His holy hours."

He takes the rope of the bell and strikes the hour--seven ringing and
slow strokes. The wind plays with them, it drops them to the ground, but
before they touch it, it catches them tenderly, sways them softly and
with a light accompaniment of whistling carries them off to the dark
coast.

"Oh, no!" mutters Dan. "Bad hours, they fall to the ground. They are
not His holy hours and He will send them back. Oh, a storm is coming! O
Lord, have mercy on those who are perishing at sea!"

He mutters and coughs.

"Dan, I have seen the ship again to-day. Do you hear, Dan?"

"Many ships are going out to sea."

"But this one had black sails. It was again going toward the sun."

"Many ships are going out to sea. Listen, Mariet, there was once a wise
king--Oh, how wise he was!--and he commanded that the sea be lashed with
chains. Oho!"

"I know, Dan. You told me about it."

"Oho, with chains! But it did not occur to him to christen the sea