Haggart slowly rubs his brow.

"I don't know. It is true I love you, Mariet. But how incomprehensible
your land is--in your land a man sees dreams even when he is not asleep.
Perhaps I am smiling already. Look, Mariet."

The abbot stops in front of Khorre.

"Ah, old friend, how do you do? You are smiling already. Look, Mariet."

"I don't want to work," ejaculates the sailor sternly.

"You want your own way? This man," roars the abbot, pointing at
Khorre, "thinks that he is an atheist. But he is simply a fool; he
does not understand that he is also praying to God--but he is doing
it the wrong way, like a crab. Even a fish prays to God, my children;
I have seen it myself. When you will be in hell, old man,give my
regards to the Pope. Well, children, come closer, and don't gnash
your teeth. I am going to start at once. Eh, you, Mathias--you
needn't put out the fire in your pipe; isn't it the same to God what
smoke it is, incense or tobacco, if it is only well meant. Why do
you shake your head, woman?"

WOMAN--His tobacco is contraband.

YOUNG FISHERMAN--God wouldn't bother with such trifles. The abbot
thinks a while:

"No; hold on. I think contraband tobacco is not quite so good.
That's an inferior grade. Look here; you better drop your pipe