ravenous wolves—­and they made such good use of their time, that in a few hours nothing remained of the poor old horse but his bones, his tail, and his shoes.  When somewhat later the tyrant arrived, accompanied by one of Bellombre’s farm-hands, leading the horse that was to take the chariot back with them, he was naturally astonished to find only the skeleton, with the harness and trappings, still intact, about it, for neither birds nor beasts had interfered with them, and his surprise was increased when he discovered the half-devoured carcass of the wolf lying under the chariot wheels.  There also, scattered on the road, were the sham louis-d’or that did duty upon the stage when largesses were to be distributed; and upon the snow were the traces, clearly defined, of the footsteps of a man, approaching the chariot from the way it had come, and of those of the same man, and also of a child, going on beyond it.

“It would appear,” said Herode to himself, “that the chariot of Thespis has received visitors, since we abandoned it, of more than one sort, and for my part I am very thankful to have missed them all.  Oh, happy accident! that, when it happened, seemed to us so great a misfortune, yet is proven now to have been a blessing in disguise.  And you, my poor old horse, you could not have done us a greater service than to die just when and where you did.  Thanks to you we have escaped the wolves—­two-legged ones, which are perhaps the most to be dreaded of all, as well as the ravenous brethren of this worthy lying here.  What a dainty feast the sweet, tender flesh of those plump little pullets, Isabelle and Serafina, would have been for them, to say nothing of the tougher stuff the rest of us are made of.  What a bountiful meal we should have furnished them—­the murderous brutes!” While the tyrant was indulging in this soliloquy Bellombre’s servant had detached the chariot from the skeleton of the poor old horse, and had harnessed to it, with considerable difficulty, the animal he had been leading, which was terrified at sight of the bleeding, mutilated carcass of the wolf lying on the snow, and the ghastly skeleton of its predecessor.  Arrived at the farm, the chariot was safely stowed away under a shed, and upon examination it was found that nothing was missing.  Indeed, something had been left there, for a small clasp-knife was picked up in it, which had fallen out of Chiquita’s pocket, and excited a great deal of curiosity and conjecture.  It was of Spanish make, and bore upon its sharp, pointed blade, a sinister inscription in that language, to this effect—­

     “When this viper bites you, make sure
     That you must die—­for there is no cure.”

No one could imagine how it had come there, and the tyrant was especially anxious to clear up the mystery that puzzled them all.  Isabelle, who was a little inclined to be superstitious, and attach importance to omens, signs of evil, and such-like, felt troubled about it.  She spoke Spanish perfectly, and understood the full force and significance of the strange inscription upon the wicked-looking blade of the tiny weapon.