A fisherman seated at the other end, says:

"There was nobody among us who passed by. Tell us, Thomas."

Thomas takes out his pipe:

"I am a neighbour of Philipp's, of that man there--" he points at
the curtain. "Yes, yes, you all know that I am his neighbour. And
if anybody does not know it--I'll say it again, as in a court of
justice: I am his neighbour--I live right next to him--" he turns
to the window.

An elderly fisherman enters and forces himself silently into the line.

"Well, Tibo?" asks the abbot, stopping.

"Nothing."

"Haven't you found Haggart?"

"No. It is so foggy that they are afraid of losing themselves.
They walk and call each other; some of them hold each other by the
hand. Even a lantern can't be seen ten feet away."

The abbot lowers his head and resumes his pacing. The old fisherman
speaks, without addressing any one in particular.

"There are many ships now staring helplessly in the sea."