carried on your idle gossip with the woman over there."
"Our idle gossip, Henry," exclaimed the wife, setting down her coffee-cup with a clatter; "I must beg of you not to forget the respect that is due to me."
"Well, well, I meant no slight," Mr. Hummel hastened to add, hoping to allay the storm which he had inopportunely brought upon himself.
"What you meant, you, of course, know. I take it as I heard it. But it shows little feeling in you, Mr. Hummel, for the sake of a dead dog to treat your wife and daughter as idle gossips."
This disagreement added still more to the gloom and ill-humor of the morning, but did not in any way advance the discovery of the culprit. It was in vain that the mistress of the house, in order to divert her husband's suspicions from the Hahn family, raised many other conjectures, and, with Laura's help, tried to throw the blame on their own employés or the watchman, and that she at last suggested even the shop-porter over the way as the possible evil-doer. Alas! the reputation of the dogs was so dreadful that the Hummel family could more easily count the few people who did not wish evil to the dogs, than the many whose wish and interest it was to see the monsters at the bottom of Cocytus. The news ran like wildfire through the streets, a crowd gathered around the fruit-woman at the corner, and people spoke of the evil deed everywhere, pitilessly, hostilely, and maliciously. Even among those in the streets who tried to show outward signs of sympathy, the prevailing feeling was hardly concealed. It is true there were some sympathisers. First Mrs. Knips, the washerwoman, with voluble indignation; then even Knips the younger ventured pityingly into the neighborhood of the house-he was clerk in the hostile business, having gone over to the enemy, but never ceased to show respect to his former instructor on all occasions, and to pay unacceptable homage to Miss Laura. At last the comedian of the theatre, whom they generally invited on Sundays, came, and related many amusing stories. But even these few faithful adherents were suspected by some of the household. Gabriel distrusted the Knips family, while Laura detested the clerk, and the comedian, formerly a welcome guest, had, some evenings before, in passing by, inconsiderately expressed to a companion, that it would be a praiseworthy deed to remove these dogs from the stage of life. Now this unhappy suggestion was repeated to the mistress of the house, and it lay heavy on her heart. For fifteen years she had accepted this man's homage with pleasure, shown him much friendliness, and given him enthusiastic applause at the theatre, not to speak of the Sunday dinners and preserves. But now when the gentleman lowered his head sympathisingly and expressed his horror and indignation at the deed, his face, from the long habit of comic action, lengthened itself so hypocritically, that Mrs. Hummel suddenly fancied she saw a devil grinning out of the features of the once esteemed man. Her sharp remarks about Judases frightened in turn the comedian, revealing to him the danger of losing his best house of entertainment, and the more dolorous he felt, the more equivocal became his expression.
During all these occurrences the Hahn family kept quiet in the background. They displayed no signs of undue pleasure, and no unnatural sympathy came from the silent walls. But at mid-day, when Mrs. Hummel went to refresh herself a little in the air, she met her neighbor; and Mrs. Hahn, who since the garden scene had felt herself in the wrong, stopped and expressed her regret in a friendly way that Mrs. Hummel had experienced such an unpleasant accident. But the hostile feeling and suspicion of her husband echoed in the answer. Mrs. Hummel spoke coldly, and both separated with a feeling of animosity.
Meanwhile Laura sat at her writing-table, and noted down in her private journal the events of the day, and with a light heart she concluded with these lines:
"They're dead and gone! Removed the curse of hate-
Erased the stain is from the book of hate."
This prophecy contained about as much truth as if, after the first skirmish of the siege of Troy, Cassandra had noted it down in Hector's album. It was confuted by the endless horrors of the future.
Spitehahn at all events was not gone; his life was saved. But the night's treachery had exercised a sorrowful influence on the creature, both body and soul. He had never been beautiful. But now his body was thin, his head swelled, and his shaggy coat bristly. The glass splinters which the skillful doctor had removed from his stomach seemed to have gotten somehow into his hairs, so that they started bristling from his body like a bottle-brush; his curly tail became bare, only at the end did there remain a tuft of hair, like a bent cork-screw with a cork at the end. He no longer wagged his tail; his yelping ceased; night and day he roved about silently; only occasionally a low, significant growl was heard. He came back to life, but all softer feelings were dead in him; he became averse to human beings, and fostered dark suspicions in his soul; all attachment and fidelity ceased; instead of which he evinced a lurking malice and general vindictiveness. Yet Mr. Hummel did not mind this change; the dog was the victim of unheard-of wickedness, which had been intended for the injury of himself, the proprietor of the house; and had he been ten times more hideous and savage to human beings, Mr. Hummel would still have made a pet of him. He stroked him, and did not take it amiss when the dog showed his gratitude by snapping at the fingers of his master.
Whilst the flames of just irritation still shot forth from this new firebrand of the family peace, Fritz returned from his vacation. His mother immediately related to him all the events of the last few weeks-the bell-ringing, the dogs, the new hostility.
"It was well that you were away. Were the beds at the inns comfortable? They are so careless nowadays of strangers. I hope that in the country, where they rear geese, people show more care. You must talk to your father about this new quarrel, and do what you can to restore peace."
Fritz listened silently to his mother's account, and said soothingly:
"You know it is not the first time. It will pass over."
This news did not contribute to increase the cheerfulness of the Doctor. Sadly he looked from his room on the neighboring house and the windows of his friend. In a short time a new household would be established there; might not then his friendship with the Professor be affected by the disturbances which of old existed between the two houses? He then began to arrange the notes that he had collected on his journey. But today the footprints of the grotto gave him an uncomfortable feeling, and the tales of the wild hunters made him think of Ilse's wise words, "It is all superstition." He put away his papers, seized his hat, and went out, meditating, and not exactly gaily disposed, into the park. When he saw Laura Hummel a few steps before him on the same path, he turned aside, in order not to meet any one from the hostile house.
Laura was carrying a little basket of fruit to her godmother. The old lady resided in her summer house in an adjacent village, and a shady footpath through the park led to it. It was lonely at this hour in the wood, and the birds alone saw how free from care was the smile that played around the little mouth of the agile girl, and how full of glee were the beautiful deep blue eyes that peered into the thicket. But although Laura seemed to hasten, she stopped frequently. First it occurred to her that the leaves of the copper beech would look well in her brown felt hat: she broke off a branch, took off her hat, and stuck the leaves on it; and in order to give herself the pleasure of looking at it, she held her hat in her hand and put a gauze handkerchief over her head for protection against the rays of the sun. She admired the chequered light thrown by the sun on the road. Then a squirrel ran across the path, scrambled quick as lightning up a tree and hid itself in the branches; Laura looked up and perceived its beautiful bushy tail through the foliage, and fancied herself on the top of the tree, in the midst of the foliage and fruit, swinging on a branch, then leaping from bough to bough, and finally taking a walk-high in the air, on the tops of the trees-over the fluttering leaves as though upon green hills.
When she came near the water that flowed on the other side of the path, she perceived that a large number of frogs, sitting in the sun on the bank, sprang into the water with great leaps, as if by word of command. She ran up to them and saw with astonishment that in the water, they had a different appearance; they were not at all so clumsy; they went along like little gentlemen
