't know what justice is."

"Who, then, knows it? You, you, Haggart! You are God's justice, Haggart.
Is it true that he was your nurse? Oh, I know what it means to be a
nurse; a nurse feeds you, teaches you to walk--you love a nurse as
your mother. Isn't that true, Gart--you love a nurse as a mother? And
yet--'string him up with a rope, Khorre'!"

She laughs quietly.

A loud, ringing laughter resounds from the side where Khorre was led
away. Haggart stops, perplexed.

"What is it?"

"The devil is meeting his soul there," says Mariet.

"No. Let go of my hand! Eh, who's there?"

A crowd is coming. They are laughing and grinning, showing their teeth.
But noticing the captain, they become serious. The people are repeating
one and the same name:

"Khorre! Khorre! Khorre!"

And then Khorre himself appears, dishevelled, crushed, but happy--the
rope has broken. Knitting his brow, Haggart is waiting in silence.

"The rope broke, Noni," mutters Khorre hoarsely, modestly, yet with
dignity. "There are the ends! Eh, you there, keep quiet! There is
nothing to laugh at--they started to hang me, and the rope broke, Noni."

Haggart looks at his old, drunken, frightened, and happy face, and he
laughs like a madman. And the sailors respond with roaring laughter. The
reflected lights are dancing more merrily upon the waves--as if they are
also laughing with the people.

"Just look at him, Mariet, what a face he has," Haggart is almost
choking with laughter. "Are you happy? Speak--are you happy? Look,
Mariet, what a happy face he has! The rope broke--that's very strong--it
is stronger even than what I said: 'String him up with a rope.' Who said
it? Don't you know, Khorre? You are out of your wits, and you don't know
anything--well, never mind, you needn't know. Eh, give him gin! I am
glad, very glad that you are not altogether through with your gin.
Drink, Khorre!"

Voices shout:

"Gin!"

"Eh, the boatswain wants a drink! Gin!"

Khorre drinks it with dignity, amid laughter and shouts of approval.
Suddenly all the noise dies down and a sombre silence reigns--a woman's
strange voice drowns the noise--so strange and unfamiliar, as if it were
not Mariet's voice at all, but another voice speaking with her lips:

"Haggart! You have pardoned him, Haggart?"

Some of the people look at the body; those standing near it step aside.
Haggart asks, surprised:

"Whose voice is that? Is that yours, Mariet? How strange! I did not
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