He made her a bed on the straw in the stable, then he ran to the kitchen for some bread.  When she had eaten all she could she curled up and went to sleep.

When his employers heard of this the next day they allowed the coachman to keep the animal.  It was a good beast, caressing and faithful, intelligent and gentle.

Nevertheless Francois adored Cocotte, and he kept repeating:  “That beast is human.  She only lacks speech.”

He had a magnificent red leather collar made for her which bore these words engraved on a copper plate:  “Mademoiselle Cocotte, belonging to the coachman Francois.”

She was remarkably prolific and four times a year would give birth to a batch of little animals belonging to every variety of the canine race.  Francois would pick out one which he would leave her and then he would unmercifully throw the others into the river.  But soon the cook joined her complaints to those of the gardener.  She would find dogs under the stove, in the ice box, in the coal bin, and they would steal everything they came across.

Finally the master, tired of complaints, impatiently ordered Francois to get rid of Cocotte.  In despair the man tried to give her away.  Nobody wanted her.  Then he decided to lose her, and he gave her to a teamster, who was to drop her on the other side of Paris, near Joinville-le-Pont.

Cocotte returned the same day.  Some decision had to be taken.  Five francs was given to a train conductor to take her to Havre.  He was to drop her there.

Three days later she returned to the stable, thin, footsore and tired out.

The master took pity on her and let her stay.  But other dogs were attracted as before, and one evening, when a big dinner party was on, a stuffed turkey was carried away by one of them right under the cook’s nose, and she did not dare to stop him.

This time the master completely lost his temper and said angrily to Francois:  “If you don’t throw this beast into the water before—­to-morrow morning, I’ll put you out, do you hear?”

The man was dumbfounded, and he returned to his room to pack his trunk, preferring to leave the place.  Then he bethought himself that he could find no other situation as long as he dragged this animal about with him.  He thought of his good position, where he was well paid and well fed, and he decided that a dog was really not worth all that.  At last he decided to rid himself of Cocotte at daybreak.

He slept badly.  He rose at dawn, and taking a strong rope, went to get the dog.  She stood up slowly, shook herself, stretched and came to welcome her master.

Then his courage forsook him, and he began to pet her affectionately, stroking her long ears, kissing her muzzle and calling her tender names.

But a neighboring clock struck six.  He could no longer hesitate.  He opened the door, calling:  “Come!” The beast wagged her tail, understanding that she was to be taken out.