"Can I not bury the dog somewhere myself?"
"I am afraid—I hardly know—" he said. "These are the rules,—that all dead animals are taken by the municipality."
He spoke reluctantly now. His personal animosity against me was evidently dead. Fortunate that I had not offended him earlier in the interview; if I had, he would certainly now have dragged the dog from me with every species of indignity and insult, and I could have done nothing against him, armoured up as he was with the law. As things stood, he was clearly on my side.
"Perhaps this gentleman," I said, indicating the master of the hotel, "would let me purchase a piece of ground for a grave in his courtyard. If so, would you allow me to bury the dog there?"
The master of the hotel, who saw now that after all there would be no serious row with the police, nor discredit on his hotel, and began to think his fury had been somewhat misdirected, hastened to assure me that I need not consider the matter; that not only was a portion, but the whole courtyard at my disposition, and not as a purchase, but as a free gift, if M'sieur le Commissionaire sanctioned the proceeding.
The official hesitated, and the onlookers, their sympathies engaged, murmured,—
"Ah, pauvre chien!"
"C'est l'affection vois-tu?"
"Il aime le chien, c'est naturel!"
"L'affection, c'est toujours touchante!"