"It eats, and what use is it?" cried Allertssohn, looking at the dove. "Herr von Warmond, a young man after God's own heart, has just brought me two falcons; do you want to see bow I tame them?"
"No, Captain, I have enough to do with my music and my doves."
"That is your affair. The long-necked one yonder is a queer-looking fellow."
"And of what country is he probably a native? There he goes to join the others. Watch him a little while and then answer me."
"Ask King Soloman that; he was on intimate terms with birds."
"Only watch him, you'll find out presently."
"The fellow has a stiff neck, and holds his head unusually high."
"And his beak?"
"Curved, almost like a hawk's! Zounds, why does the creature strut about with its toes so far apart? Stop, bandit! He'll peck that little dove to death. As true as I live, the saucy rascal must be a Spaniard!"
"Right, it is a Spanish dove. It flew to me, but I can't endure it and drive it away; for I keep only a few pairs of the same breed and try to get the best birds possible. Whoever raises many different kinds in the same cote, will accomplish nothing."