"Dear child," answered the experienced mother, "one has to pass through much in this world which is unpleasant, but what grieves me most is the wanton attacks upon the dignity of women in their own houses. I shall say no more on the subject. I agree with you, that both the names by which the dogs are called are an insult to our neighbor. But if your father were to discover that behind his back we called them Phœbus and Azor, it would make matters worse."
"No one at least must utter those other names who cares for my friendship," said Laura, decidedly, and entered into the court-yard.
Gabriel was employing his leisure in making observations on the new comers. He was frequently attracted to the dogs' kennel in order to establish the certainty of the earthly nature of the strangers.
"What is your opinion?" asked Laura, approaching him.
"I have my opinion," answered the servant, peering into the interior of the shed, "namely, that there is something mysterious about them. Did you remark the song of those ravens the other night? No real dog barks like that; they whine and moan and occasionally groan and speak like little children. They eat like other dogs, but their mode of life is unusual. See, how they cower down, as if they had been struck on the mouth, because the sun shines on them. And then, dear young lady, the names!"
Laura looked with curiosity at the beasts.
"We will alter the names secretly, Gabriel; this one shall be called Ruddy."
"That would certainly be better; it would at least not be an insult to Mr. Hahn, but only to the tenant of the basement."
"What do you mean by that?"
"The porter who lives over there is called Ruddy."