"You surely think enough of the boys, Amalie, to submit? You see now the result of my humoring you the last time."
But if he goes on thus he will kill her! Why does he not look at her?
Whether she noticed my sympathy or not, she suddenly turned her eyes, her hands, toward me, while her husband walked from us across the floor; there was a despairing entreaty in this glance, in this little movement. I comprehended at once what was her sole wish: this was the matter in which I was to help her.
She had sunk down on her hands, and she remained lying thus without stirring. I did not hear sounds of weeping; probably she was praying. He strode up and down the room; he saw her; but his step kept continually growing firmer. The articles he picked up and crushed in his hand, he flung each time farther and farther away from him, and with increased vehemence.
The dining-room door slowly opened. Stina appeared again, but this time she remained standing on the threshold, paler than usual. Atlung, who had just turned toward us, stood still and cried: "What is it, Stina?"
She did not reply at once; she looked at the mistress of the house, who had raised her head and was staring at her, and who at last burst out: "What is it, Stina?"
"The boys," said Stina, and paused.
"The boys?" repeated both parents, Atlung standing motionless, his wife springing up.
"They are neither on the gard, nor at the housemen's places; we have searched everywhere, even through the manufactory."
"Where did you see them last?" asked Atlung, breathless.