The Hound of Florence Read Online Free PDF Page B

was warming himself by the fire in a luxurious apartment. Count Waltersburg was standing in front of him. As soon as the latter caught sight of the Groom-of-the-Chamber coming in with the dog he went into fits of laughter. “There’s that rascal back again after all, and your Imperial Highness thought it impossible for the dog to run all that way over the hills.”
    The Archduke looked down at Cambyses, who had quietly stretched himself in front of the fire. “Yes indeed! And he seems all right. Well, I’m very glad. I was afraid he might have been frozen to death.” He gave the dog a sly dig in the ribs with the point of his shoe.
    Count Waltersburg shook his head. “A good thrashing would be the best thing,” he observed thoughtfully. “Otherwise the brute will think he can run away and come back again just as he pleases.”
    The Archduke cast an enquiring glance up at Pointner, who shrugged his shoulders peevishly. “It might be just as well,” he said.
    â€œWell then,” commanded the Archduke, “go ahead with it.” At these words the dog sprang to his feet looking in alarm from one to the other.
    â€œAmazing!” laughed Waltersburg. “Anyone would think he understood every word.” The dog gave him a penetrating, imploring look, but Waltersburg only laughed the louder. “Yes, dear friend, it’s no good looking like that. You’ve got to be punished.”
    â€œCambyses!” called Pointner sternly, turning toward the door.
    â€œWhere are you going?” the Archduke enquired.
    â€œI thought it would be better to do it outside,” stammered Pointner.
    â€œNo, here!” was the Archduke’s cold and curt command.
    Pointner still hesitated and then began slowly and reluctantly to unfasten the belt about his portly belly.
    â€œAre you going to do it today or tomorrow,” cried the Archduke.
    The first blow crashed down. The dog fell flat on the floor and howled. The second blow was a miss, but in his terror the dog howled more loudly than ever. The third and fourth blows did not strike him square, but were very painful notwithstanding.
    â€œGive it to me, Dietrich!” exclaimed the Archduke. “You’re no good! You hit too fast and too irregularly. Give it to me, Dietrich!” He spoke in short gasps, and his hollow cheeks were slightly flushed. Seizing the belt impatiently and leaning forward in his armchair, he raised his arm and slowly let blow after blow fall. His aim was sure and he hit hard. The dog writhed frantically under the blows, his howl rising to a shriek of despair, a heart-rending wail. But the belt whizzed down on him faster and faster, whistling as it cleaved the air. The dog made one faint attempt to get up and escape, but collapsed all of a heap under the hail of blows, and his howling died down as if drowned in tears. The Archduke was in a frenzy, and took no notice of Pointner.
    â€œYour Grace, please!” exclaimed the man anxiously. But the Archduke might have been drunk as he continued swinging the belt and panting with ever-increasing fury.
    â€œThere! There! There!” he cried in hoarse, almost inaudible tones, wellnigh beside himself with rage. Suddenly his arm dropped and he fell back in his chair. His head drooped forward; he was white as death and choked and gasped for breath; his eyes rolled.
    Clumsy and fat as he was, Pointner darted like lightning to a ewer of water, plunged a cloth into it and bathed the Archduke’s brow.
    â€œRun across the road for the doctor!” he growled in fierce fury at Waltersburg, who was standing by horri­fied, not knowing what to do. “Could you think of nothing better to do than persuade him to thrash that dog? What? Have you forgotten how dangerous it is to put him up to such pranks, or are you an absolute fool? Quick! Run for the doctor! At least do as you are bid!”
    Waltersburg fled from the room.
    The dog lay