much, I assure you, Gart. I suppose you are a friend of Haggart's--
you have such stern, fine eyes? But you are silent? Why are they
silent, Haggart; did you forbid them to speak? And why are you
silent yourself, Haggart? Haggart!"

Illuminated by the light of torches, Haggart stands and listens to
the rapid, agitated speech. The metal of the guns and the uniforms
vibrates and flashes; the light is also playing on the faces of those
who have surrounded Haggart in a close circle--these are his nearest,
his friends. And in the distance there is a different game--there a
large ship is dancing silently, casting its light upon the black
waves, and the black water plays with them, pleating them like a
braid, extinguishing them and kindling them again.

A noisy conversation and the splashing of the waters--and the
dreadful silence of kindred human lips that are sealed.

"I am listening to you, Mariet," says Haggart at last. "What do you
want, Mariet? It is impossible that some one should have offended
you. I ordered them not to touch your house."

"Oh, no, Haggart, no! No one has offended me!" exclaimed Mariet
cheerfully. "But don't you like me to hold little Noni in my arms?
Then I will put him down here among the rocks. Here he will be warm
and comfortable as in his cradle. That's the way! Don't be afraid
of waking him, Gart; he sleeps soundly and will not hear anything.
You may shout, sing, fire a pistol--the boy sleeps soundly."

"What do you want, Mariet? I did not call you here, and I am not
pleased that you have come."