They face each other. Mariet cries angrily, placing herself between them:
“May a thunder strike you down, both of you, that’s what I am praying to God. May a thunder strike you down! What are you doing with my heart? You are tearing it with your teeth like greedy dogs. You didn’t drink enough blood, Gart, drink mine, then! You will never have enough, Gart, isn’t that true?”
“Now, now,” says the abbot, calming them. “Take him home, Mariet. Go home, Gart, and sleep more.”
Mariet comes forward, goes to the door and pauses there.
“Gart! I am going to little Noni.”
“Go.”
“Are you coming along with me?”
“Yes—no—later.”
“I am going to little Noni. What shall I tell him about his father when he wakes up?”
Haggart is silent. Khorre comes back and stops irresolutely at the threshold. Mariet casts at him a glance full of contempt and then goes out. Silence.