American prose literature; English prose literature; Narration (Rhetoric)
Glorified he leaped up, his whole being answering the cry of hers,
but before his lips could translate it he was gripped by a mighty
agony, and sneeze after sneeze shook all his senses, so that he was
utterly helpless. When he was able to look up again he saw the woman
moving towards him round the Pond, and suddenly he clapped his hands
over his eyes and fled towards the Ring, as though pursued by demons.
Here he passed the remainder of the night, but in what sort of
prayers I leave you to imagine; as also amid what ravings he passed
his Sunday.
On Monday the Lad was again before him at the forge, and a crow’s
wing looked milky beside his face. He did not raise his eyes as the
King came in, but said:
“You look very ill.” He said it furiously.
“I have had nightmares,” said the King. “Pardon me if you can. I will
get to work and make my final shoe.”
But though he now had little more to learn in his craft, the Lad,
when the shoe was made, picked it up in his pincers and flung it to
the other end of the forge; yet the King now knew enough to know that
few smiths could have made its equal. So he looked surprised; at
which the Lad, controlling himself, said:
“When I pass your fourth shoe you will need no more masters--I forged
a shoe like that one yonder when I was fifteen, and my father said of
it, ‘You will make a smith one day.’”
And on neither Tuesday nor Wednesday nor Thursday nor Friday could
the King succeed in pleasing the Lad; the better his shoes the
angrier grew his young master that they were not good enough. Yet
between these gusts of temper he was gentle and remorseful, and once
the King saw tears in his eyes, and another time the Lad came humbly
to ask for pardon. Then William laughed and put out his hand, but, as
once before, the Lad slipped his behind his back and said:
“It is so dirty, friend.”
And this time he would not let William take it. So the King was
forced instead to lay his arm about the Lad’s shoulder, and press
it tenderly; but the Lad made no response, and only stood hanging
his head until the King removed his arm. All the same, when next the
King made a shoe he was full of rage, and stamped on it, and ran out
of the forge. Which surprised the King all the more because it was
so excellent a shoe. Yet he was secretly glad of its rejection, for
he felt it would break his heart to go away from that place; and he
could think of no good cause for remaining, once Pepper was shod. So
there he stayed, eating, sleeping, and working, while the thews of
his back became as strong under the smooth skin as the thews of a
beech-tree under the smooth bark; and his craft was such that the Lad
at last left the whole of the work of the forge in his charge. For
there was nothing he could not do surpassingly well. And this the Lad
admitted, save only in the case of the fourth shoe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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