“Perhaps you, too, like the music of your old Dan, that old fool?”
“You know his name?”
“Khorre told me it. I don’t like his music, no, no. Bring me a good, honest dog, or beast, and he will howl. You will say that he knows no music—he does, but he can’t bear falsehood. Here is music. Listen!”
He takes Mariet by the hand and turns her roughly, her face toward the ocean.
“Do you hear? This is music. Your Dan has robbed the sea and the wind. No, he is worse than a thief, he is a deceiver! He should be hanged on a sailyard—your Dan! Good-bye!”
He goes, but after taking two steps he turns around.
“I said good-bye to you. Go home. Let this fool play alone. Well, go.”
Mariet is silent, motionless. Haggart laughs:
“Are you afraid perhaps that I have forgotten your name? I remember it. Your name is Mariet. Go, Mariet.”
She says softly: