Growth of the Soil by Knut Hamsun (chromebook ebook reader txt) 📕

door-slab, then he went out into the woods to look for the ewe. And he found Inger. Inger and one other. They sat in the heather, she twirling his peaked cap on one finger, both talking together⁠—they were after her again, it seemed.

Isak trundled slowly over towards them. Inger turned and saw him, and bowed forward where she sat; all the life went out of her, she hung like a rag.

“H’m. Did you know that ewe’s out again?” asked Isak. “But no, you wouldn’t know,” said he.

The young telegraph hand picked up his cap and began sidling away. “I’ll be getting along after the others,” he said. “Good night to ye.” No one answered.

“So you’re sitting here,” said Isak. “Going to stay out a bit, maybe?” And he turned towards home. Inger rose to her knees, got on her feet and followed after, and so they went, man in front and wife behind, tandem-wise. They went home.

Inger must have found time to think. Oh, she found a way. “ ’Twas the ewe I was after,” said she. “I saw it was out again. Then one of the men came up and helped me look. We’d not been sitting a moment when you came. Where are you going now?”

“I? Seems I’d better look for the creature myself.”

“No, no, go and lie down. If anyone’s to go, let me. Go and lie down, you’ll be needing rest. And as for that, the ewe can stay out where she is⁠—’twon’t be the first time.”

“And be eaten up by some beast or other,” said Isak, and went off.

Inger ran after him. “Don’t, don’t, it’s not worth it,” she said. “You need rest. Let me go.”

Isak gave in. But he would not hear of Inger going out to search by herself. And they went indoors together.

Inger turned at once to look for the children; went into the little chamber to see to the boys, as if she had been out on some perfectly natural errand; it almost seemed, indeed, as if she were trying to make up to Isak⁠—as if she expected him to be more in love with her than ever that evening⁠—after she had explained it all so neatly. But no, Isak was not so easy to turn; he would rather have seen her thoroughly distressed and beside herself with contrition. Ay, that would have been better. What matter that she had collapsed for a moment when he came on her in the woods; the little moment of shame⁠—what was the good of that when it all passed off so soon?

He was far from gentle, too, the next day, and that a Sunday; went off and looked to the sawmill, looked to the cornmill, looked over the fields, with the children or by himself. Inger tried once to join him, but Isak turned away: “I’m going up to the river,” he said. “Something up there.⁠ ⁠…”

There was trouble in his mind, like enough, but he bore it silently, and made no scene. Oh, there was something great about Isak; as it might be Israel, promised and ever deceived, but still believing.

By Monday the tension was less marked, and as the days went on, the impression of that unhappy Saturday evening grew fainter. Time can mend a deal of things; a spit and a shake, a meal and a good night’s rest, and it will heal the sorriest of wounds. Isak’s trouble was not so bad as it might have been; after all, he was not certain that he had been wronged, and apart from that, he had other things to think of; the harvesting was at hand. And last, not least, the telegraph line was all but finished now; in a little while they would be left in peace. A broad light road, a king’s highway, had been cut through the dark of the forest; there were poles and wires running right up over the hills.

Next Saturday paytime, the last there was to be, Isak managed to be away from home⁠—he wished it so. He went down into the village with cheese and butter, and came back on Sunday night. The men were all gone from the barn; nearly all, that is; the last man stumbled out of the yard with his pack on his shoulder⁠—all but the last, that is. That it was not altogether safe as yet Isak could see, for there was a bundle left on the floor of the barn. Where the owner was he could not say, and did not care to know, but there was a peaked cap on top of the bundle⁠—an offence to the eye.

Isak heaved the bundle out into the yard, flung the cap out after it, and closed the door. Then he went into the stable and looked out through the window. And thought, belike: “Let the bundle stay there, and let the cap lie there, ’tis all one whose they may be. A bit of dirt he is, and not worth my while”⁠—so he might have thought. But when the fellow comes for his bundle, never doubt but that Isak will be there to take him by the arm and make that arm a trifle blue. And as for kicking him off the place in a way he’d remember⁠—why, Isak would give him that too!

Whereupon Isak left his window in the stable and went back to the cowshed and looked out from there, and could not rest. The bundle was tied up with string; the poor fellow had no lock to his bag, and the string had come undone⁠—Isak could not feel sure he had not dealt over hardly with that bundle. Whatever it might be⁠—he was not sure he had acted rightly. Only just now he had been in the village, and seen his new harrow, a brand-new harrow he had ordered⁠—oh, a wonderful machine, an idol to worship, and it had just come. A thing like that must carry a blessing with it. And the powers above, that guide the footsteps of