"Then you never have seen one of the rarest spectacles of daring, vehemence, and grace in the world. Look!"
He drew Donovan toward him, knelt beside him, and began feeling the animal with his expert hands.
"No machine in nature exists that is more exactly and powerfully adapted to its purpose. The muzzle is sharp in order to penetrate the air; it is long, so that the jaws can crush the prey at the first snap. The skull is wide between the ears in order to contain the greatest courage and skill. The jowls are dry and muscular, and the lips so short they hardly cover the teeth."
With sure and easy touch, he opened the mouth of the dog, which offered no resistance.
"Look at those white teeth! See how long the eyeteeth are, with a little curve at the top, the better to hold his prey. No other species of dog has a mouth so well constructed for biting."
His hands lingered over the examination, and his admiration for the superb specimen was unbounded. He was kneeling in the clover, and received in his face the breath of the dog, which quietly permitted him to examine it, as if it comprehended and enjoyed the praise of the connoisseur.
"See what elegance in his ribs, arranged with the symmetry of a fine keel, and in that line curved inward toward the abdomen, which is hidden. All point to one aim. The tail, thick at the root and slender at the tip—look! almost like that of a rat—serves as a sort of rudder, necessary to enable him to turn swiftly when the hare doubles. Let us see, Donovan, whether you are perfect also in this respect."
He took the tip of the tail, passed it under the leg, and drew it toward the haunch-bone, where it exactly touched the projecting part.
"Yes, perfect! Once I saw an Arab of the tribe of Arbâa measuring his sloughi in that way. Ali-Nour, did you tremble when you discovered the herd of gazelles? Imagine, Foscarina—the sloughi trembles when he discovers his prey, quivers like a willow, and turns his soft, pleading eyes toward his master, begging to be released. I do not know the reason why this pleases me and stirs me so much. His desire to kill is terrible; his whole body is ready to stretch itself like a bow, yet he trembles! Not with fear, nor with uncertainty, but with sheer desire. Ah, Foscarina! if you could see a sloughi at that moment, you would not fail to learn from him his manner of quivering, and you would render the manner human by the power of your tragic art, and would give mankind a new sensation. Up, Ali-Nour! swift desert arrow! Do you remember? But now you tremble only when you are cold."