“You must wish something bad to happen this evening.  Hunger makes the beasts furious—­and me also.”

“So much the better!”

“It’ll drive ’em mad.”

“So much the better!”

“How, so much the better?—­But—­”

“It is enough!”

“But, devil take me, I am as hungry as the beasts!”

“Eat then—­who prevents it?  Your supper is ready, as you devour it raw.”

“I never eat without my beasts, nor they without me.”

“I tell you again, that, if you dare give any food to the beasts—­I will turn you away.”

Goliath uttered a low growl as hoarse as a bear’s, and looked at the
Prophet with a mixture of anger and stupefaction.

Morok, having given his orders, walked up and down the loft, appearing to reflect.  Then, addressing himself to Goliath, who was still plunged in deep perplexity, he said to him.

“Do you remember the burgomaster’s, where I went to get my passport signed?—­To-day his wife bought some books and a chaplet.”

“Yes,” answered the giant shortly.

“Go and ask his servant if I may be sure to find the burgomaster early to-morrow morning.”

“What for?”

“I may, perhaps, have something important to communicate; at all events, say that I beg him not to leave home without seeing me.”

“Good! but may I feed the beasts before I go to the burgomaster’s?—­only the panther, who is most hungry?  Come, master; only poor Death? just a little morsel to satisfy her; Cain and I and Judas can wait.”

“It is the panther, above all, that I forbid you to feed.  Yes, her, above all the rest.”

“By the horns of the devil!” cried Goliath, “what is the matter with you to-day?  I can make nothing of it.  It is a pity that Karl’s not here; he, being cunning, would help me to understand why you prevent the beasts from eating when they are hungry.”

“You have no need to understand it.”

“Will not Karl soon come back?”

“He has already come back.”

“Where is he, then?”

“Off again.”

“What can be going on here?  There is something in the wind.  Karl goes, and returns, and goes again, and—­”

“We are not talking of Karl, but of you; though hungry as a wolf you are cunning as a fox, and, when it suits you, as cunning as Karl.”  And, changing on the sudden his tone and manner, Morok slapped the giant cordially on the shoulder.

“What! am I cunning?”

“The proof is, that there are ten florins to earn to-night—­and you will be keen enough to earn them, I am sure.”

“Why, on those terms, yes—­I am awake,” said the giant, smiling with a stupid, self-satisfied air.  “What must I do for ten florins?”

“You shall see.”

“Is it hard work?”

“You shall see.  Begin by going to the burgomaster’s—­but first light the fire in that stove.”  He pointed to it with his finger.