Gotho rested her cheek upon her hand, and looked thoughtful. Then she said aloud:
"I cannot guess it; for of course he would take me with him. We could not live apart."
She rose with a slight sigh, and went to a field near the house, to look after the linen which was lying there bleaching.
But now old Iffa rose from his seat behind the open window, where he had heard all that had passed.
"This will not do," he cried, rubbing his head hard. "I never yet had the heart to separate the children--for they were but children! I always waited and waited; and now I think I have put it off a little too long. Away with thee, young Adalgoth!"
He left the dwelling-house, and walked slowly to the smithy. He found the boy working busily. With puffed-out cheeks, he blew into the fire on the hearth, and held the already roughly-prepared arrow-points in it, in order to make them red-hot and fit for the hammer. Then he took them out with a pair of pincers, laid them on an anvil, and hammered out neat points and hooks. Without pausing in his work, he nodded silently to his grandfather, striking sturdily upon the anvil till the sparks flew.
"Well," thought the old man, "just now, at least, he thinks of nothing but arrows and iron."
But suddenly the young smith finished his work with a tremendous stroke, threw away the hammer, passed his hand across his hot forehead, and asked, turning sharply to the old man:
"Grandfather, where do men come from?"
"Jesus, Woden, and Maria!" exclaimed the old man, starting back. "Boy, how comest thou to such thoughts?"