The animal instantly rose.
“Come, I must reward your obedience by gratifying your appetite.”
With these words, the man stooped toward the object lying on the ground.
The cracking of bones broken by a hatchet was heard; but no sigh or groan was now blended with it.
“It seems,” muttered the small man, “that there are but two of us left alive in Arbar hall. There, good Friend, finish the feast which you began.”
He flung toward the aforementioned outer door what he had detached from the object stretched at his feet. The bear threw himself upon his prey so rapidly that the swiftest eye could not have been sure that the fragment was indeed a human arm, clad in a bit of green stuff of the same shade as the uniform worn by the Munkholm musketeers.
“Some one is coming,” said the little man, keeping his eye on the light, which was steadily advancing. “Comrade Friend, leave me alone for a moment. Ho there! Away with you!”
The obedient beast rushed to the door, backed down the steps outside, and disappeared, bearing off his disgusting booty with a satisfied howl.
At the same instant a tall man appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, whose sinuous depths still reflected a dim light. He was wrapped in a long brown cloak, and carried a dark-lantern, which he turned full on the small man’s face.
The latter, still seated on his stone with folded arms, exclaimed: “Ill befall you, you who come hither guided by an idea, and not by instinct!”