"Fidelity!" said Gabriel, indignantly, as he pulled a parcel out of the pocket; "it was greedy selfishness. There must be something to eat in here."
"Ah! I recollect now," cried Raschke; "it is the fowl that's to blame. Give me the parcel, Gabriel; I must eat it myself. And we may now wish one another good-night in peace, unless you will go with me a little way to show me the road amongst these trees."
"But you can't go in this night air without an overcoat," said the tender-hearted Gabriel. "We are not far from our house, and it would be better for you to return with me to the Professor's."
Raschke paused a while, and laughed. "You are quite right, my good Gabriel: my sudden departure was all wrong, and the soul of an animal has this day given a lesson to a human soul."
"If you mean this dog," replied Gabriel, "it is the first time in his life he has given anybody a lesson. I suppose that he followed you from our door, for I put bones there for him every evening."
"At one time I thought he was quite mad," said the Professor.
"He is a sly one when he chooses," replied Gabriel, with an air of mystery; "but if I were to tell all my experiences with him to this day----"
"Do tell me, Gabriel," cried the Professor, quite excited. "Nothing is so valuable with respect to animals as authentic anecdotes, collected by those who have observed them closely."
"I can vouch for my experience," said Gabriel, with an air of confidence; "and if you really wish to know what he is, I can tell you he is possessed--he is a devil--he's a depraved brute--and bears a grudge against the whole human race!"
"Hum!--is that so?" murmured the philosopher. "I believe it is much easier to look into the heart of a Professor than that of a dog."