Desfoso asks loudly:
“Well, abbot? You are coming along with us, aren’t you, father. Otherwise something wrong might come out of it. Do I speak properly?”
The abbot replies merrily:
“Of course, of course, children. I am going with you. Without me, you will think of the church. I have just been thinking of the church—of the kind of church you need. Oh, it’s hard to get along with you, people!”
The fishermen go out very slowly—they are purposely lingering.
“The sea is coming,” says one. “I can hear it.”
“Yes, yes, the sea is coming! Did you understand what he said?”
The few who remained are more hasty in their movements. Some of them politely bid Haggart farewell.
“Good-bye, Gart.”
“I am thinking, Haggart, what kind of a church we need. This one will not do, it seems. They prayed here a hundred years; now it is no good, they say. Well, then, it is necessary to have a new one, a better one. But what shall it be?”