"I had a deal of trouble to find her. The mischief of the unknown had buried her under two feet of snow. Had it not been for Homo, who sees as clearly with his nose as Christopher Columbus did with his mind, I should be still there, scratching at the avalanche, and playing hide and seek with Death. Diogenes took his lantern and sought for a man; I took my lantern and sought for a woman. He found a sarcasm, and I found mourning. How cold she was! I touched her hand—a stone! What silence in her eyes! How can any one be such a fool as to die and leave a child behind? It will not be convenient to pack three into this box. A pretty family I have now! A boy and a girl!"
Whilst Ursus was speaking, Homo sidled up close to the stove. The hand of the sleeping infant was hanging down between the stove and the chest. The wolf set to licking it. He licked it so softly that he did not awake the little infant.
Ursus turned round.
"Well done, Homo. I shall be father, and you shall be uncle."
Then he betook himself again to arranging the fire with philosophical care, without interrupting his aside.
"Adoption! It is settled; Homo is willing."
He drew himself up.
"I should like to know who is responsible for that woman's death? Is it man? or...."
He raised his eyes, but looked beyond the ceiling, and his lips murmured,—
"Is it Thou?"