"But, Harry," Vips begins, coaxingly, after a while, "if I must not go near the dog you ought not to have so much to do with him. You went to him several times to-day."
"That's very different; he is used to me," Harry sternly replies to his brother, who is looking at him with eyes full of anxious affection. "I have to see to him, since all the asses of servants, beginning with that old fool Blasius, are afraid of the poor brute. Moreover, he has everything now that he needs."
Vips knits his brows thoughtfully and shakes his head.
Suddenly the door of the dining-room opens, and old Blasius appears, pale as ashes, and trembling in every limb.
"What is the matter?" Harry asks, springing up.
"Herr Baron, I----" the old man stammers.
"What is the matter?"
"I told the Herr Baron how it would be," the old man declares, with the whimsical self-assertion which so often mingles with distress in the announcement of some misfortune: "Hector has gone mad."
"Nonsense! what do you know about hydrophobia? Let the dog alone!" Harry shouts, stamping his foot.
"He has broken his chain."