“I told you how it would be!  It is nothing remarkable, I assure you.  All dogs treat me in the same way.”

And I laid my hand on the animal’s neck with a commanding pressure; he lay down at once, only now and then raising his large wistful brown eyes to my face as though he wondered what had changed it so greatly.  But no disguise could deceive his intelligence—­the faithful creature knew his master.  Meantime I thought Nina looked pale; certainly the little jeweled white hand nearest to me shook slightly.

“Are you afraid of this noble animal, madame?” I asked, watching her closely.  She laughed, a little forcedly.

“Oh, no!  But Wyvis is usually so shy with strangers, and I never saw him greet any one so rapturously except my late husband.  It is really very odd!”

Ferrari, by his looks, agreed with her, and appeared to be uneasily considering the circumstance.

“Strange to say,” he remarked, “Wyvis has for once forgotten me.  He never fails to give me a passing snarl.”

Hearing his voice, the dog did indeed commence growling discontentedly; but a touch from me silenced him.  The animal’s declared enmity toward Ferrari surprised me—­it was quite a new thing, as before my burial his behavior to him had been perfectly friendly.

“I have had a great deal to do with dogs in my time,” I said, speaking in a deliberately composed voice.  “I have found their instinct marvelous; they generally seem to recognize at once the persons who are fond of their society.  This Wyvis of yours, contessa, has no doubt discovered that I have had many friends among his brethren, so that there is nothing strange in his making so much of me.”

The air of studied indifference with which I spoke, and the fact of my taking the exuberant delight of Wyvis as a matter of course, gradually reassured the plainly disturbed feelings of my two betrayers, for after a little pause the incident was passed over, and our conversation went on with pleasant and satisfactory smoothness.  Before my departure that evening, however, I offered to chain up the dog—­“as, if I do this,” I added, “I guarantee he will not disturb your night’s rest by his howling.”

This suggestion met with approval, and Ferrari walked with me to show me where the kennel stood.  I chained Wyvis, and stroked him tenderly; he appeared to understand, and he accepted his fate with perfect resignation, lying down upon his bed of straw without a sign of opposition, save for one imploring look out of his intelligent eyes as I turned away and left him.

On making my adieus to Nina, I firmly refused Ferrari’s offered companionship in the walk back to my hotel.

“I am fond of a solitary moonlight stroll,” I said.  “Permit me to have my own way in the matter.”