But come in, come in! We will soon get
a light."
They passed stooping under the little low door, and the woodman, having
lighted a pine-torch, stuck it into a split iron rod to serve as a
candlestick, and a bright light, clear and white as moonshine, filled the
hut, lighting up every corner of it.
Christian, standing in shirt-sleeves, his broad chest uncovered, and
with a pair of canvas trousers hitched up about his hips, looked a
good-natured fellow enough; his tawny beard came down in a point to his
waist; his huge bull head was covered with bristling brown hair; his
small grey eyes inspired confidence.
"Take a seat, master," he said, rolling a log of wood before the fire.
"Are you hungry?"
"Why, you know, my lad, your mountain air does excite one's appetite."
"Very well; you are just in time. I have got some very good potatoes
quite at your service."
At the mention of potatoes Uncle Bernard could not help grimacing; he
remembered, with the longing of affection, old Berbel's good suppers, and
had a difficulty in coming down to the humble realities before him.
Christian seemed to take no notice; he took five or six potatoes out of
a sack, and put them into the embers, taking care to cover them entirely;
then, sitting down on the hearthstone, he lighted his pipe.
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