One night he fell asleep where he sat. He dreamed that the wolf had appointed him his special commissioner, and while he was absent, performing his duties, the wolf paid visits to his lady-rabbit.... Suddenly he felt some one touching his side; he awoke, and saw the brother of his betrothed.
“Your bride is dying,” said he. “She heard of your misfortune, and sank at once under the blow. Her one thought now is, ‘Must I die thus, and not say farewell to my beloved?’”
At these words the condemned one felt as though his heart would burst. Oh, why! How had he deserved his bitter fate? He had lived honestly, he had never stirred up revolutions, had never gone about with firearms, he had attended to his business—and must he die for that? Death! Oh, think what that word means! And not he alone must die, but she too, his little grey maiden-rabbit, whose only crime was that she had loved him, her squint-eyed one, with all her heart! Oh, if he could, how he would fly to her, his little grey love, how he would clasp his fore-paws behind her ears, and caress her, and stroke her little head!
“Let us escape,” said the messenger.
At these words the condemned one was for a moment as if transformed. He shrank up altogether, and laid his ears along his back. He was just ready to spring, and leave not a trace behind. But at that moment he glanced at the wolf’s lair. The rabbit heart throbbed with anguish.
“I can’t,” he said; “the wolf has not given me permission.”
All this time the wolf was looking on and listening, and whispering softly in wolf language with the she-wolf. No doubt they were praising the rabbit’s noble-mindedness.
“Let us escape,” said the messenger once more.
“I can’t,” repeated the condemned.
“What treason are you muttering there?” suddenly snarled the wolf.