Peter looked at Innocenz mistrustfully. Innocenz was in the rocking-chair. His arms prescribed the motion of steering, of sailing through troubled waters. Now and then he shouted into the foghorn. The sea started to boil. The violent pitch of the surging waves frightened him and he clutched the mast. Then the storm calmed. Innocenz stepped off the ship. Sudden coral reefs and palms. A path led to the interior. He saw Peter walking. He called out to him. Peter stood by the window and did not move. He let him scream. But already Innocenz had forgotten about Peter and knelt on the floor where he had discovered something glittering: light, the sunlight falling on wooden boards. Innocenz bathed his fingernails in this glittering pool. He rinsed his hand in it--smiled--and lifting it up he saw light dripping from it. He caressed this burning whiteness with his cheek and felt the warmth. Peter watched him. His anger rose as he crept closer. Jealous! He knelt beside Innocenz, so that he too could wash his hand in shiny whiteness, so that he too could bathe his fingernails in a glittering pool of light. Their two hands touched and pressed against each other. Peter's hand, large and angry, pushed the smaller hand of Innocenz into the shade. Innocenz seized Peter's hand by the neck, like an impudent animal, and flung it to the side. Peter squinted his eyes shut. He lifted his hands like two pincers and slowly put them around the neck of Innocenz who looked back at him smiling and curious, twirling his fingers in a glitter of light that now his alone. Peter tightened his grip and dug his thumbs into the flesh. Innocenz's face became red and swollen. But he was not angry. He tried to laugh. The corners of his mouth twitched, his eyes flickered, and his nose became wrinkled. But not a sound escaped through the tight grip around his throat. When Peter relaxed his claws a little, Innocenz burst into loud, happy, violent laughter, a laughter that came from deep down in his heart. Peter's fingers tightened their grip inmediately. Even though Innocenz was dead, his eyes continued to laugh. Peter pulled the corpse to the window and hid it in the folds of the curtain. Then he bent over this liquid brilliance and put his fingers in it. He was happy that now it belonged only to him.