. Why
did it not occur to him to do that, Mariet? Ah, why did he not think of
it? We have no such kings now."

"What would have happened, Dan?"

"Oho!"

He whispers softly:

"All the rivers and the streams have already been christened, and the
cross of the Lord has touched even many stagnant swamps; only the sea
remained--that nasty, salty, deep pool."

"Why do you scold it? It does not like to be scolded," Mariet reproaches
him.

"Oho! Let the sea not like it--I am not afraid of it. The sea thinks
it is also an organ and music for God. It is a nasty, hissing, furious
pool. A salty spit of satan. Fie! Fie! Fie!"

He goes to the doors at the entrance of the church muttering angrily,
threatening, as though celebrating some victory:

"Oho! Oho!"

"Dan!"

"Go home."

"Dan! Why don't you light candles when you play? Dan, I don't love my
betrothed. Do you hear, Dan?"

Dan turns his head unwillingly.

"I have heard it long ago, Mariet. Tell it to your father."

"Where is my mother, Dan?"

"Oho! You are mad again, Mariet? You are gazing too much at the
sea--yes. I am going to tell--I am going to tell your father, yes."

He enters the church. Soon the sounds of the organ are heard. Faint
in the first, long-drawn, deeply pensive chords, they rapidly gain
strength. And with a passionate sadness, their human melodies now
wrestle with the dull and gloomy plaintiveness of the tireless surf.
Like seagulls in a storm, the sounds soar amidst the high waves, unable
to rise higher on their overburdened wings. The stern ocean holds them
captive by its wild and eternal charms. But when they have risen, the
lowered ocean roars more dully; now they rise still higher--and the
heavy, almost voiceless pile of water is shaking helplessly. Varied
voices resound through the expanse of the resplendent distances. Day has
one sorrow, night has another sorrow, and the proud, ever rebellious,
black ocean suddenly seems to become an eternal slave.

Her cheek pressed against the cold stone of the wall, Mariet is
listening, all alone. She is growing reconciled to something; she is
grieving ever more quietly.

Suddenly, firm footsteps are heard on the road; the cobblestones are
creaking under the vigorous steps--and a man appears from behind the
church. He walks slowly and sternly, like those who do not roam in vain,
and who know the earth from end to end. He carries his hat in his hands;
he is thinking of something, looking ahead.