“You God-damned pair of ragamuffins!” he said, amidst sobs. He wiped the tears from his eyes. And sprang up, hurling the children aside, like two little hay-stooks. With the furious roar of a lion, he ran to the door, from the depths of which Maria was emerging, with closed eyes, supported by Freder’s arm.
“You bloody—!” he howled out. He dragged Freder aside, shoved the girl back into the depths, slammed the trap-door to, and slung his entire weight upon it, drumming the rhythm of his laughter upon it with clenched fists.
A grim effort had kept Freder on his feet. Beside himself, he fell upon the maniac to tug him from the trap-door, fell over him and rolled with him, in furious embrace, among the ruins of the machines.
“Let me go, you dog, you mangy dog!” howled Grot, trying to bite at the angry fist which held him. “That woman murdered my machine—That dam’ woman led the rabble—! That woman alone turned the lever to ‘12’—! I saw it when they were trampling on me—! The woman can drown down there—! I’m going to kill that woman—!”
With marvellous tension of all his muscles Grot drew himself up and heaved himself, with a jerk, away from the raving man—with such infuriated strength that he, Grot, shot, describing a curve, amidst the children.
Cursing ardently, he gathered himself up again; but, though he was uninjured, he could not move a limb. He stuck, an impotent spoon, in a porridge of children, which adhered to his arms, legs and fists. No steel fetters could have condemned him so effectually to helplessness, as did the little cold, wet hands, which were defending her who had rescued them all. Yes, his own children were standing before him, pommelling angrily upon his clenched fists, unscared by the blood-shot eyes with which the giant glared at the dwarves, cudgelling him.
“That woman murdered my machine—!” he howled out at last, more complainingly than angrily, looking at the girl, who was resting upon Freder’s arm, as though expecting her to bear him out.
“What does he mean?” asked Maria. “And what has happened?”
And she looked with eyes, the horror in which was only modified by the deepest of exhaustion, at the destruction round about, and at the snorting Grot.
Freder did not answer.