'Thank God, that is finished!' exclaimed Astro, winding up the springs of the wooden angels.
Their heavy wings moved, and in the resultant waft of air, the delicate wing of the great swallow stirred and rustled. The smith looked at it with inexpressible tenderness.
'The time I have squandered on these stupid monsters!' he exclaimed, pushing the angels away. 'From this out, Master, you may say what you please, but I will not go from this room till I have finished my swallow! Give me, pr'ythee, the design for the tail.'
'It is not ready, Astro. It demands further calculation.'
'But, Master, you promised it to me three days ago!'
'It cannot be helped. The tail of our bird is the rudder. The smallest mistake will ruin the whole.'
'You know best, I suppose! I will get on with the second wing.'
'We had better wait. It may be necessary to introduce some modification.'
The smith very carefully lifted the cane skeleton, overlaid with a network of bullocks' tendons; he turned it round, and contemplated it under every aspect. Then, his voice thick and trembling with excitement, he cried:—
'Master, be not wroth, but hear! If your calculations lead you to the conclusion that this machine also is useless, I swear to you that none the less I intend to fly. Yes, I will fly in spite of all your damnable mechanics. I have no longer patience for waiting, because——'