"Yes. Do you like the name? I have invented it myself--Haggart.
It's a pity that you have been named already. I would have invented
a fine name for you."

Suddenly he frowned.

"Tell me, Mariet, why is your land so mournful? I walk along your
paths and only the cobblestones creak under my feet. And on both
sides are huge rocks."

"That is on the road to the castle--none of us ever go there. Is it
true that these stones stop the passersby with the question: 'Where
are you going?'"

"No, they are mute. Why is your land so mournful? It is almost a
week since I've seen my shadow. It is impossible! I don't see my
shadow."

"Our land is very cheerful and full of joy. It is still winter now,
but soon spring will come, and sunshine will come back with it. You
shall see it, Haggart."

He speaks with contempt:

"And you are sitting and waiting calmly for its return? You must be
a fine set of people! Ah, if I only had a ship!"

"What would you have done?"

He looks at her morosely and shakes his head suspiciously.