“Silence, old man, silence!” the abbot stops him, while Khorre looks over their heads with silent contempt.  “Haggart, I am asking you, why did you take Philipp’s life?  He needed his life just as you need yours.”

“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: 

“I talked with the devil.”

A muffled rumbling follows.  The abbot jumps from his place and roars furiously: 

“Then let him sit on your neck!  Eh, Pierre, Jules, tie him down as fast as you can until morning.  And the other one, too.  And in the morning—­in the morning, take him away to the city, to the Judges.  I don’t know their accursed city laws”—­cries the abbot in despair—­ “but they will hang you, Haggart!  You will dangle on a rope, Haggart!”

Khorre rudely pushes aside the young fisherman who comes over to him with a rope, and says to Desfoso in a low voice: 

“It’s an important matter, old man.  Go away for a minute—­he oughtn’t to hear it,” he nods at Haggart.

“I don’t trust you.”

“You needn’t.  That’s nothing.  Noni, there is a little matter here.  Come, come, and don’t be afraid.  I have no knife.”

The people step aside and whisper.  Haggart is silently waiting to be bound, but no one comes over to him.  All shudder when Mariet suddenly commences to speak: 

“Perhaps you think that all this is just, father?  Why, then, don’t you ask me about it?  I am his wife.  Don’t you believe that I am his wife?  Then I will bring little Noni here.  Do you want me to bring little Noni?  He is sleeping, but I will wake him up.  Once in his life he may wake up at night in order to say that this man whom you want to hang in the city is his father.”