“No.  I don’t know how to shoot.  And it was he who told me where you were.  O Haggart, O brother!”

She sobs, and then she speaks angrily with a shade of a serpentine hiss in her voice: 

“I hate them!  They were not tortured enough; I would have tortured them still more, still more.  Oh, what cowardly rascals they are!  Listen, Haggart, I was always afraid of your power—­to me there was always something terrible and incomprehensible in your power.  ’Where is his God?’ I wondered, and I was terrified.  Even this morning I was afraid, but now that this night came, this terror has fled, and I came running to you over the fiery road:  I am going with you, Haggart.  Take me, Haggart, I will be the soul of your ship!”

“I am the soul of my ship, Mariet.  But you will be the song of my liberated soul, Mariet.  You shall be the song of my ship, Mariet!  Do you know where we are going?  We are going to look for the end of the world, for unknown lands, for unknown monsters.  And at night Father Ocean will sing to us, Mariet!”

“Embrace me, Haggart.  Ah, Haggart, he is not a God who makes cowards of human beings.  We shall go to look for a new God.”

Haggart whispers stormily: 

“I lied when I said that I have forgotten everything—­I learned this in your land.  I love you, Mariet, as I love fire.  Eh, Flerio, comrade!” He shouts cheerfully:  “Eh, Flerio, comrade!  Have you prepared a salute?”

“I have, Captain.  The shores will tremble when our cannons speak.”

“Eh, Flerio, comrade!  Don’t gnash your teeth, without biting—­no one will believe you.  Did you put in cannon balls—­round, east-iron, good cannon balls?  Give them wings, comrade—­let them fly like blackbirds on land and sea.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Haggart laughs: 

“I love to think how the cannon ball flies, Mariet.  I love to watch its invisible flight.  If some one comes in its way—­let him!  Fate itself strikes down like that.  What is an aim?  Only fools need an aim, while the devil, closing his eyes, throws stones—­the wise game is merrier this way.  But you are silent!  What are you thinking of, Mariet?”

“I am thinking of them.  I am forever thinking of them.”

“Are you sorry for them?” Haggart frowns.

“Yes, I am sorry for them.  But my pity is my hatred, Haggart.  I hate them, and I would kill them, more and more!”

“I feel like flying faster—­my soul is so free.  Let us jest, Mariet!  Here is a riddle, guess it:  For whom will the cannons roar soon?  You think, for me?  No.  For you? no, no, not for you, Mariet!  For little Noni, for him—­for little Noni who is boarding the ship to-night.  Let him wake up from this thunder.  How our little Noni will be surprised!  And now be quiet, quiet—­don’t disturb his sleep—­ don’t spoil little Noni’s awakening.”

The sound of voices is heard—­a crowd is approaching.