So they sat in the darkness and silence deep and brooding.
“Do you sleep, Klaas?”
“Neh, sieur.”
“I feel the touch of the morning wind.”
“The stars are white, all but one that shines red.”
“The morning star. The sun will soon be up. Are the clouds rising, do you think?”
“The sky shines like the eye of a pool when the moon looks on it.”
“And the mist; look below.”
“It is black below, sieur.”
The minutes went slowly by.