"Shall we see if we can find it?" he braced himself up to ask in a conciliatory and almost submissive tone. He dared not express his request more plainly; he was afraid that Ingolf had already seen too much.
"I'll share in no more foolishness today," said Ingolf coldly and decidedly.
Leif started as though struck by the lash of a whip. Ingolf's tone kindled a flame in him like fire in dry straw. The consciousness of having lied, and the fear of its being perceived, made him sensitive and irritable beyond measure. He was seized with rage, and felt a shiver run through his whole body. Senseless evil words and terrible execrations rose in his mind, but in such rapid succession that his tongue could not utter them. With a jerk he turned his horse and rode toward the wood. He wanted to get away from Ingolf: he would show him—
Ingolf looked after him. And as he sat there and saw him ride away, his arms and legs waving all ways at once, a revulsion took place in his mind. His wrath had come to a head, and now began to subside. "There was no sense in that," he thought, and could not recover himself after Leif's disappearance. "I did not think to drive him so far. But surely he will have the sense to turn back!"
No, Leif did not turn back. And Ingolf, who had let slip the opportunity of calling him to return, could not yet bring himself to ride after him.
"Now we shall be separated for life," he thought again. "That is too ridiculous. That must not happen." He would not be separated from Leif like that. But the consciousness of his own right and Leif's obvious wrong had still too strong a hold on him. It seemed to him impossible to turn his horse round. Yet once more he repeated to himself: "It must not happen." But all the same he rode on. He let it happen.
III
Ingolf rode on. The sun went down. A wind blew from the north, bringing thick clouds of ice-cold snow as fine as sand. He could not see the wood any more. And Leif had long disappeared in the sea of snow.
Night began to come on. A faint glow high above him on the left betrayed the whereabouts of the full moon. With the help of that and the wind he tried to guide himself. He was so alone, so completely forsaken, as he had hitherto never guessed that anyone could be. And he felt his loneliness and desolation as accusation and guilt. He had, as it were, grown smaller since Leif had left him.