You are silent?
I shall come up to you." Haggart is silent.

His dark profile is stern and wildly gloomy; every motion of his powerful body, every fold of his clothes, is full of the dull silence of the taciturnity of long hours, or days, or perhaps of a lifetime.
"Your sailor will not kill me?
You are silent.

I have a betrothed.

His name is Philipp, but I don't love him.

You are now like that rock which lies on the road leading to the castle." Haggart turns around silently and starts.
"I also remember your name.