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put them out of his mind as over-ambitious. After all the mysterious events that had occurred, he felt that he should do penance for his arrogant aspirations. By the time he had received friendly greetings from all and sundry, and had unwittingly taken his share in their conversation and even joined in snatches of their songs, he had ceased to brood over what had happened. He even began to doubt whether it were true. Tired out, but with his mind at rest, he returned home in the evening with the comforting feeling that he had escaped from some danger, or from the meshes of a strange delusion. He fell asleep immediately.
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    Suddenly he was awakened by a kick which seemed to go right through his body, and found himself lying on the ground. Above him was the broad red face of a fat footman in livery, who was on the point of kicking him again.
    â€œHullo, here’s Cambyses back again!” shouted the man. “Get up, you rascal. Where the devil have you been all day?”
    Lucas sprang to his feet in horror. Yes, he was back in a stable again, the doors stood wide open, the morning light was pouring in, and the men were leading the fine white horses out one by one, already harnessed. As Lucas tried to escape another kick, the fat man caught hold of him by the scruff of the neck, just behind his ears.
    â€œHi, you lout!” he called out, “just hand me a bit of rope, so that I sha’n’t lose the brute again!”
    The grooms and stable-boys all laughed.
    â€œYou don’t want a bit of rope, Master Pointner,” said one of them. “Cambyses won’t run away. If he had wanted to run away, he wouldn’t have come back at all.”
    â€œReally!” retorted the fat man angrily. “And what about yesterday? Where was the rascal all day yesterday, I’d like to know?”
    â€œWith one of his sweethearts, I expect,” replied another of the grooms, and all the stable-hands roared with laughter. Meanwhile a young groom called Caspar had come up, a gentle, handsome boy with an amiable face.
    â€œPlease don’t be so hard on Cambyses, Master Pointner,” he begged, “or one of these fine days he’ll go off for good. I assure you, sir, it would be much better to stroke him and make a fuss of him. Believe me, I understand dogs, as you know. Just think how clever it was of him to find us. How he must have run to catch up with us, and how nicely he has taken to his proper place again. You may take my word for it, Master Pointner, that dog’s run the deuce of a long way just to get back to us. . . . Good old Cambyses, good dog! . . . Let him go, Master Pointner. . . .”
    Pointner withdrew his hand, and the young groom smiled again. “Just look at him,” he said. “That dog understands every blessed word! Look how he’s turning from me to you and you to me. . . . Yes, good old Cambyses, good dog, come along! . . .” And leaning forward, he stroked the dog’s back and patted him kindly on the breast, between his forelegs, as men fondle horses.
    â€œThere, just see how pleased he is,” he observed with a laugh, as he drew himself up. “There’s no need for a rope. Just call him kindly to you, and he’ll follow, and our gracious lord will be overjoyed that the dog is back again.”
    â€œCome along!” cried the fat man sullenly and left the stable. “Come along, you sly rascal . . . !” And Lucas followed to heel.
    The Archduke was sitting at breakfast with various gentlemen of his suite, when his Groom-of-the-Chamber entered. The dog behind him sprang into the room.
    â€œYour Grace, the dog has come back!” said Pointner.
    â€œOh ho!” cried the Prince with a laugh. “Cambyses, come here! Where did you find him, Dietrich?”
    â€œLying in the stable as usual,” Pointner replied sullenly. “The rascal was