mad, and Wolf, standing majestically near, broke into short howls of impatience for his turn of caressing. They made a strange group, those three wild things, equally fierce and passionate in hate and in love.
Suddenly the girl remembered me, and standing up she said, half ashamed:
"They always obey me. They are mine, but they kill any strange thing that comes in through the gate. They are allowed to."
"It is a pleasant whim."
"What?"
"I mean, isn't that dangerous to strangers?"
"Oh, no one ever comes alone, except The Duke. And they keep off the wolves."
"The Duke comes, does he?"
"Yes!" and her eyes lit up. "He is my friend. He calls me his 'princess,' and he teaches me to talk and tells me stories—oh, wonderful stories!"
I looked in wonder at her face, so gentle, so girlish, and tried to think back to the picture of the girl who a few moments before had so coolly threatened to shoot me and had so furiously beaten her dogs.
I kept her talking of The Duke as we walked back to the gate, watching her face the while. It
