“He was Mariet’s betrothed—and—”
“Well?”
“And—I don’t want to speak. Why didn’t you ask me before, when he was alive? Now I have killed him.”
“But”—says the abbot, and there is a note of entreaty in his heavy voice. “But it may be that you are already repenting, Haggart? You are a splendid man, Gart. I know you; when you are sober you cannot hurt even a fly. Perhaps you were intoxicated—that happens with young people—and Philipp may have said something to you, and you—”
“No.”
“No? Well, then, let it be no. Am I not right, children? But perhaps something strange came over you—it happens with people—suddenly a red mist will get into a man’s head, the beast will begin to howl in his breast, and—In such cases one word is enough—”
“No, Philipp did not say anything to me. He passed along the road, when I jumped out from behind a large rock and stuck a knife into his throat. He had no time even to be scared. But if you like—” Haggart surveys the fishermen with his eyes irresolutely—“I feel a little sorry for him. That is, just a little. Did he make this toy?”
The abbot lowers his head sternly. And Desfoso shouts again, amidst sobs of approval from the others:
“No! Abbot, you better ask him what he was doing at the church. Dan saw them from the window. Wouldn’t you tell us what you and your accursed sailor were doing at the church? What were you doing there? Speak.”
Haggart looks at the speaker steadfastly and says slowly: