“You have enlightened me, Captain Pog; until now, the hatred of the soldiers of Christ had never entered into my heart; until now, I only wished their death because they had killed my father and mother; if I showed them no mercy, I fought them, sword to sword, galley to galley. But now, captain, armed or disarmed, young or old, fairly or basely, I will kill as many as I can kill,—do you know why, captain? Say, do you know why, captain?”
“He is out of his head!” whispered Trimalcyon.
“No, he says what he feels,” replied Pog. “Ah, well, then, my child, tell me why?” added he.
“Because in making me an orphan, they put me in your power, and you have made me what I am.”
There was in the expression of the features of Erebus something which revealed a hatred so implacable, that Trimalcyon whispered to Pog:
“There is blood in his look!”
Erebus, although exasperated beyond measure by the contemptuous hatred of Pog, did not dare avenge himself, because he was dominated by an involuntary sentiment of gratitude toward the man who had reared him, and with an air of desperation he went out of the chamber.
“He is going to kill himself!” cried Trimalcyon.
Pog shrugged his shoulders.
Some moments after, while the two companions sat in gloomy silence, they heard the sound of oars striking the water.