d."

"No, but who else? It seems to me a human being is singing, a woman is
singing, and others are laughing and shouting something. Is that all
nothing but the wind?"

"Only the wind."

"Why does the wind deceive me?" says Haggart haughtily.

"It feels lonesome, Noni, just as I do, and it laughs at the human
beings. Have you heard the wind lying like this and mocking in the open
sea? There it tells the truth, but here--it frightens the people on
shore and mocks them. The wind does not like cowards. You know it."

Haggart says morosely:

"I heard their organist playing not long ago in church. He lies."

"They are all liars."

"No!" exclaims Haggart angrily. "Not all. There are some who tell the
truth there, too. I shall cut your ears off if you will slander honest
people. Do you hear?"

"Yes."

They are silent; they listen to the wild music of the sea. The wind
has evidently grown mad. Having taken into its embrace a multitude
of instruments with which human beings produce their music--harps,
reed-pipes, priceless violins, heavy drums and brass trumpets--it breaks
them all, together with a wave, against the sharp rocks. It dashes them
and bursts into laughter--only thus does the wind understand music--each
time in the death of an instrument, each time in the breaking of
strings, in the snapping of the clanging brass. Thus does the mad
musician understand music. Haggart heaves a deep sigh and with some
amazement, like a man just awakened from sleep, looks around on all
sides. Then he commands shortly:

"Give me my pipe."

"Here it is."

Both commence to smoke.

"Don't be angry, Noni," says the sailor. "You have become so angry that
one can't come near you at all. May I chat with you?"

"There are some who do tell the truth there, too," says Haggart sternly,
emitting rings of smoke.

"How shall I say it you, Noni?" answers the sailor cautiously but
stubbornly. "There are no truthful people there. It has been so ever
since the deluge. At that time all the honest people went out to sea,
and only the cowards and liars remained upon the solid earth."

Haggart is silent for a minute; then he takes the pipe from his mouth
and laughs gaily.

"Have you invented it yourself?"

"I think so," says Khorre modestly.

"Clever! And it was worth teaching you sacred history for that! Were you
taught by a priest?"

"Yes. In prison. At that time I was as innocent as a dove. That's also
from sacred scriptures, N