"Will you be off!" said Tyltyl to the Dog.
"Do let me worry the gouty old beggar's moss slippers!" begged Tylô.
Tyltyl tried in vain to prevent him. The rage of Tylô, who understood the danger, knew no bounds; and he would have succeeded in saving his master, if the Cat had not thought of calling in the Ivy, who till then had kept his distance. The Dog pranced about like a madman, abusing everybody. He railed at the Ivy:
"Come on, if you dare, you old ball of twine, you!"
The onlookers growled; the Oak was pale with fury at seeing his authority denied; the Trees and the Animals were indignant, but, as they were cowards, not one of them dared protest; and the Dog would have settled all of them, if he had gone on with his rebellion. But Tyltyl threatened him harshly; and, suddenly yielding to his docile instincts, Tylô lay down at his master's feet. Thus it is that our finest virtues are treated as faults, when we exercise them without discrimination.
From that moment, the Children were lost. The Ivy gagged and bound the poor Dog, who was then taken behind the Chestnut-tree and tied to his biggest root.
"Now," cried the Oak, in a voice of thunder, "we can take counsel quietly.... This is the first time that it is given us to judge Man! I do not think that, after the monstrous injustice which we have suffered, there can remain the least doubt as to the sentence that awaits him...."
One cry rang from every throat:
"Death! Death! Death!"
The poor Children did not at first understand their doom, for the Trees and Animals, who were more accustomed to talking their own special language, did not speak very distinctly; and, besides, the innocent Children could never imagine such cruelty!