"That is not true. I have been silent all the time. Do you know, I
haven't even opened my mouth once! You must have been dreaming,
Khorre. Perhaps you are thinking that you are near the church? You
are simply sleeping in your bed, sailor. It is a dream."

Khorre is terrified.

"Drink some gin, Noni."

"I don't need it. I drank something else already."

"Your hands?"

"Be silent, Khorre. Don't you see that everything is silent and is
listening, and you alone are talking? The musician may feel offended!"

He laughs quietly. Brass trumpets are roaring harmoniously about
the triumphant conciliation between man and God. The fog is growing
thicker.

A loud stamping of feet--some one runs through the deserted street
in agitation.

"Noni!" whispers the sailor. "Who ran by?"

"I hear."

"Noni! Another one is running. Something is wrong."