“Yes,” said Fritz, “this is Gelert, the brave, faithful fellow but for whom I would have bled to death on the battlefield and never have been saved by Madaleine!”
“Thanks be to God!” exclaimed the widow piously. “What a nice dog he is!”
“He is all that,” replied Fritz; “still, he must be taught not to molest Master Mouser. Here, Gelert!”
The dog at once sprang up again from his recumbent position on the hearthrug; while Mouser, his excessive spiny and porcupinish appearance having become somewhat toned down, was now watchfully observing this new variety of the dog species, which his natural instinct taught him to regard with antagonism and yet who was so utterly different from Burgher Jans’ terrier, the only specimen of the canine race with whom he had been previously acquainted.
“See,” said Fritz to the retriever, laying one hand on his head and stroking the cat with the other, “you mustn’t touch poor Mouser. Good dog!”
The animal gave a sniff of intelligence, seeming to know at once what was expected of him; and, never, from that moment, did he ever exhibit the slightest approach of hostility to pussy—no, not even when Mouser, as he did sometimes from curiosity, would approach him at the very delicate juncture when he was engaged on a bone, which few dogs can stand—the two ever after remaining on the friendliest of friendly terms; so friendly, indeed, that Mouser would frequently curl himself to sleep between Gelert’s paws on the hearthrug.
This little diversion had drawn away the conversation from Madaleine’s treatment by the old Baroness Stolzenkop; but, presently, Madame Dort proceeded to explain to Fritz that, on account of his telling her in one of his letters home how anxious he was in the matter, and knowing besides how much she was indebted to Madaleine for saving his life by her kindly nursing when he was in the villa hospital at Mézières, she had written to her at Darmstadt, asking her to pay her a visit and so light up a lonely house with her presence until her son should have returned from the war. “And a veritable house fairy she has been,” concluded the widow, speaking from her heart, with tears in her eyes. “She has been like sunshine to me in the winter of my desolation.”
“And Mouser likes her, too,” said Lorischen, as if that settled the matter.
“She’s the best manager in the world,” next put in Madame Dort. “She has saved me a world of trouble since she’s been in the house.”
“And she cooks better than any one else in Lubeck!” exclaimed the old nurse, not to be beat in enumerating all the good qualities of Fritz’s guardian angel, who had taken her heart, as well as the widow’s, by storm.