“My share and Death’s are below stairs, and here are those of Cain and Judas,” said Goliath, pointing to the chunk of beef.  “Where is the cleaver, that I may cut it in two?—­No preference here—­beast or man—­every gullet must have it’s own.”

Then, rolling up one of the sleeves of his vest, he exhibited a fore-arm hairy as skin of a wolf, and knotted with veins as large as one’s thumb.

“I say, master, where’s the cleaver?”—­He again began, as he cast round his eyes in search of that instrument.  But instead of replying to this inquiry, the Prophet put many questions to his disciple.

“Were you below when just now some new travellers arrived at the inn?”

“Yes, master; I was coming from the slaughter-house.”

“Who are these travellers?”

“Two young lasses mounted on a white horse, and an old fellow with a big moustache.  But the cleaver?—­my beasts are hungry and so am I—­the cleaver!”

“Do you know where they have lodged these travellers?”

“The host took them to the far end of the court-yard.”

“The building, which overlooks the fields?”

“Yes, master—­but the cleaver—­”

A burst of frightful roaring shook the loft, and interrupted Goliath.

“Hark to them!” he exclaimed; “hunger has driven the beasts wild.  If I could roar, I should do as they do.  I have never seen Judas and Cain as they are to-night; they leap in their cages as if they’d knock all to pieces.  As for Death, her eyes shine more than usual like candles—­poor Death!”

“So these girls are lodged in the building at the end of the court-yard,” resumed Morok, without attending to the observations of Goliath.

“Yes, yes—­but in the devil’s name, where is the cleaver?  Since Karl went away I have to do all the work, and that makes our meals very late.”

“Did the old man remain with the young girls?” asked Morok.

Goliath, amazed that, notwithstanding his importunities, his master should still appear to neglect the animals’ supper, regarded the Prophet with an increase of stupid astonishment.

“Answer, you brute!”

“If I am a brute, I have a brute’s strength,” said Goliath, in a surly tone, “and brute against brute, I have not always come the worst off.”

“I ask if the old man remained with the girls,” repeated Morok.

“Well, then—­no!” returned the giant.  “The old man, after leading his horse to the stable, asked for a tub and some water, took his stand under the porch—­and there—­by the light of a lantern—­he is washing out clothes.  A man with a gray moustache!—­paddling in soap-suds like a washerwoman—­it’s as if I were to feed canaries!” added Goliath, shrugging his shoulders with disdain.  “But now I’ve answered you, master, let me attend to the beasts’ supper,”—­and, looking round for something, he added, “where is the cleaver?”

After a moment of thoughtful silence, the Prophet said to Goliath, “You will give no food to the beasts this evening.”