![]() ![]() ![]() But then his laughter died as he looked at her. He laughed, as if the thought of her pointless labor was the only funny thing in this bitterly hard world. He let her go, and impulsively kicked over both pails into the mud she would have to go to the stream again, and haul more water. ![]() He brought his head close to hers and shouted, his spittle spraying into her impassive face. She reeled back from the blow, but gritted her jaw against the pain, and stood, head bowed, like a beaten ox. He grabbed her free arm to hold her steady and slapped her hard, across the face. Something in her tone enraged him-he was always on the brink of fury-and, as she put down one of the slopping pails in the muddy patch before the tumbledown building, the rough wooden door banged open and the woodcutter surged out, his dirty shirt half open, his thick trousers flapping. There was an angry bellow from inside the woodcutter’s hovel the woman, struggling up from the stream with a heavy bucket of icy water in each hand, raised her head and shouted back. ![]()
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