While Leon sat watching his pet, with a growing pain gnawing at his heart as the conviction thrust itself upon him that the dog would die, his door opened and Madame Medjora appeared. Coming forward she looked at Lossy a moment, and then said:
"Do you think that the brute will die?"
"I am afraid that he will," mournfully answered Leon.
"Then why doesn't he die right off," she said. "It is several hours since I gave him the poison."
"You gave him the poison?" exclaimed Leon, springing up in wrath. "You poisoned Lossy, and you dare to tell me of it?"
"I dare to tell you? Yes! I dare do anything that woman can do. I am a descendant of soldiers. The brute ate one of my lace handkerchiefs, and I was glad of the excuse to be rid of him. There! You know the truth now, what will you do about it?"
As she uttered the words, Madame drew herself up to the full height of her commanding figure, and it would have been a daring man who would have attacked her. But when even feeble men are urged on by rage, they do deeds which braver men would hesitate to attempt. Utterly bereft of the restraining faculty of reason, by the information that his pet had been intentionally destroyed, Leon sprang forward, and would have seized the proud neck of Madame between his powerful hands, in an endeavor to carry out the desire to throttle her, which had forced itself upon his brain, but at that very instant Dr. Medjora came in, and, with a single glance, appreciating that the lad was beside himself, he rushed forward and held him firmly.
"What does this mean, Leon?" the Doctor demanded.
"She has poisoned Lossy! Let me go! I will kill her!"
Leon struggled fiercely to be free, but he found himself restrained by muscles which were like steel. The Doctor, however, was himself tremendously moved by what he heard. Addressing his wife he asked: