He got up, and felt suddenly confused.  H’m.  What had happened now?  Nothing, only that he had been sitting down a bit.  Now there is something standing there before him, a Being, a spirit; grey silk—­no, it was nothing.  He felt strange—­took one short, uncertain step forward, and walked straight into a look, a great look, a pair of eyes.  At the same moment the aspens close by began rustling.  Now any one knows that an aspen can have a horrible eerie way of rustling at times; anyhow, Isak had never before heard such an utterly horrible rustling as this, and he shuddered.  Also he put out one hand in front of him, and it was perhaps the most helpless movement that hand had ever made.

But what was this thing before him?  Was it ghost-work or reality?  Isak would all his days have been ready to swear that this was a higher power, and once indeed he had seen it, but the thing he saw now did not look like God.  Possibly the Holy Ghost?  If so, what was it standing there for anyway, in the midst of nowhere; two eyes, a look, and nothing more?  If it had come to him, to fetch away his soul, why, so it would have to be; it would happen one day, after all, and then he would go to heaven and be among the blest.

Isak was eager to see what would come next; he was shivering still; a coldness seemed to radiate from the figure before him—­it must be the Evil One!  And here Isak was no longer sure of his ground, so to speak.  It might be the Evil One—­but what did he want here?  What had he, Isak, been doing?  Nothing but sitting still and tilling the ground, as it were, in his thoughts—­there could surely be no harm in that?  There was no other guilt he could call to mind just then; he was only coming back from his work in the forest, a tired and hungry woodman, going home to Sellanraa—­he means no harm....

He took a step forward again, but it was only a little one, and, to tell the truth, he stepped back again immediately.  The vision would not give way.  Isak knitted his brows, as if beginning to suspect something.  If it were the Evil One, why, let it be; the Evil One was not all-powerful—­there was Luther, for instance, who had nearly killed the fiend himself, not to speak of many who had put him to flight by the sign of the cross and Jesu name.  Not that Isak meant to defy the peril before him; it was not in his mind to sit down and laugh in its face, but he certainly gave up his first idea of dying and the next world.  He took two steps forward straight at the vision, crossed himself, and cried out:  “In Jesu name!”

H’m.  At the sound of his own voice he came, as it were, to himself again, and saw Sellanraa over on the hillside once more.  The two eyes in the air had gone.

He lost no time in getting home, and took no steps to challenge the spectre further.  But when he found himself once more safely on his own door-slab, he cleared his throat with a sense of power and security; he walked into the house with lofty mien, like a man—­ay, a man of the world.