It was a foolish sight; first
gathering, as it were, about the stone from all sides, then making
a dash at it, then digging all round its sides and fumbling at it,
throwing up the earth with his bare hands, ay, so he did. Yet there
was nothing of a caress in it all. Warmth, yes, but the warmth of zeal
alone.
Try the lever again? He thrust it down where there was best hold--no.
An altogether remarkable instance of obstinacy and defiance on the
part of the stone. But it seemed to be giving. Isak tries again, with
a touch of hope; the earth-breaker has a feeling now that the stone
is no longer invincible. Then the lever slipped, throwing him to the
ground. "Devil!" said he. Ay, he said that. His cap had got thrust
down over one ear as he fell, making him look like a robber, like a
Spaniard. He spat.
Here comes Inger. "Isak, come in and have your food now," says she,
kindly and pleasant as can be.
"Ay," says he, but will have her no nearer, and wants no questions.
Oh, but Inger, never dreaming, she comes nearer.
"What's in your mind now?" she asks, to soften him with a hint of the
way he thinks out some new grand thing almost every day.
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