Paula had listened, now amused and now grave, to the little girl’s story; when she ceased, she once more wiped her eyes and said: 

“Your uncle is a man, and you must not play with him as if he were a child like yourself.  The reminder you got was rather a hard one, no doubt, but Orion tried to make up for it.—­But the great hunt, what was that?”

At this question Mary’s eyes suddenly sparkled again.  In an instant all her woes were forgotten, even her ancestor’s flattened nose, and with a merry, hearty laugh she exclaimed: 

“Oh! you should have seen it!  You would have been amused too.  They wanted to catch the bad man who cut the emerald out of the hanging.  He had left his shoes and they had held them under the dogs’ noses and then off they went!  First they rushed here to the stairs; then to the stables, then to the lodgings of one of the horse-trainers, and I kept close behind, after the terriers and the other dogs.  Then they stopped to consider and at last they all ran out at the gate towards the town.  I ought not to have gone beyond the court-yard, but—­do not be cross with me—­it was such fun!—­Out they went, along Hapi Street, across the square, and at last into the Goldsmith’s Street, and there the whole pack plunged into Gamaliel’s shop—­the Jew who is always so merry.  While he was talking to the others his wife gave me some apricot tartlets; we do not have such good ones at home.”

“And did they find the man?” asked Paula, who had changed color repeatedly during the child’s story.

“I do not know,” said Mary sadly.  “They were not chasing any one in particular.  The dogs kept their noses to the ground, and we ran after them.”

“And only to catch a man, who certainly had nothing whatever to do with the theft.—­Reflect a little, Mary.  The shoes gave the dogs the scent and they were set on to seize the man who had worn them, but whom no judge had examined.  The shoes were found in the hall; perhaps he had dropped them by accident, or some one else may have carried them there.  Now think of yourself in the place of an innocent man, a Christian like ourselves, hunted with a pack of dogs like a wild beast.  Is it not frightful?  No good heart should laugh at such a thing!”

Paula spoke with such impressive gravity and deep sorrow, and her whole manner betrayed such great and genuine distress that the child looked tip at her anxiously, with tearful eyes, threw herself against her, and hiding her face in Paula’s dress exclaimed:  “I did not know that they were hunting a poor man, and if it makes you so sad, I wish I had not been there!  But is it really and truly so bad?  You are so often unhappy when we others laugh!” She gazed into Paula’s face with wide, wondering eyes through her tears, and Paula clasped her to her, kissed her fondly, and replied with melancholy sweetness: 

“I would gladly be as gay as you, but I have gone through so much to sadden me.  Laugh and be merry to your heart’s content; I am glad you should.  But with regard to the poor hunted man, I fear he is my father’s freedman, the most faithful, honest soul!  Did your exciting hunt drive any one out of the goldsmith’s shop?”