“Eh, Mariet! The dreams are ended. I don’t like your voice, woman—when did you find time to change it? What a land of jugglers! I have never seen such a land before!”
“Eh, Haggart! The dreams are ended. I don’t like your voice, either—little Haggart! But it may be that I am still sleeping—then wake me. Haggart, swear that it was you who said it: ‘The rope broke.’ Swear that my eyes have not grown blind and that they see Khorre alive. Swear that this is your hand, Haggart!”
Silence. The voice of the sea is growing louder—there is the splash and the call and the promise of a stern caress.
“I swear.”
Silence. Khorre and Flerio come up to Haggart.
“All’s ready, Captain,” says Flerio.
“They are waiting, Noni. Go quicker! They want to feast to-night, Noni! But I must tell you, Noni, that they—”
HAGGART—Did you say something, Flerio? Yes, yes, everything is ready. I am coming. I think I am not quite through yet with land. This is such a remarkable land, Flerio; the dreams here drive their claws into a man like thorns, and they hold him. One has to tear his clothing, and perhaps his body as well. What did you say, Mariet?
MARIET—Don’t you want to kiss little Noni? You shall never kiss him again.
“No, I don’t want to.”