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.