The Hound of Florence Read Online Free

lightly at a pace that delighted him. In a moment he had raced ahead of the coach-horses.
    What a dream! he thought again.
    I wonder whether I could run off into the fields?
    â€œCambyses!”
    He stopped short. At once he knew that the call was meant for him. He knew it was his name and felt an irresistible impulse, an overpowering readiness to obey. Turning round he ran back to the coach.
    â€œCambyses!”
    It was the voice of one of the lackeys standing on the tailboard. Lucas looked back at the man, and heard him add: “That’s right. . . . Good dog! . . . Stay here!”
    And then they went on.
    He felt he would like to obtain a closer view of the Archduke. And raising his head again and again, he looked up at the window of the coach. His efforts must have attracted attention, for a few words caught his pricked-up ears. In his anxiety to understand what was being said, he forgot to observe that even in his efforts to listen, his body responded to his will exactly like that of a dog, and that all unconsciously he felt impeled to prick up or drop his ears. He now heard words of command issuing from the interior; one of the lackeys raised his hand to warn the procession in the rear, and the coach suddenly halted. The door was opened and the Archduke leaned forward slightly toward the dog.
    â€œWell, Cambyses . . . already tired of running, are you?”
    The words were uttered in a stern, sharp voice, only artificially softened by a friendliness both labored and unfamiliar.
    With feelings of mingled fear and joy Lucas looked up into the arrogant face peering down on him. He tried to reply, to utter a greeting, but was aware that every effort at expression made by his will merely ran down his back. He tried to be friendly and to smile, but even these desires ran down his back and became active somewhere there. Springing aside, he turned his head. Behind him he felt something unfamiliar moving, signifying his answer, his greeting and his smile. Lo and behold! he discovered that he was wagging his tail!
    â€œHe can lie on the floor inside if he’s tired,” he heard the Archduke say, close above his head, addressing a gentleman sitting opposite him, his back to the horses; “after all, he can’t be expected to run the whole of the journey.” And, without waiting for an answer, he again leaned out, threw the door wide open, and called out: “Well, Cambyses—jump up!”
    I shall never be able to do that! thought Lucas, dropping his shoulders and scratching the dust with his forepaws, as he measured the height of the coach. He wanted to thank the Archduke effusively and beg him to wait a moment. As he did so, he noticed that his tail was wagging more and more violently.
    â€œCome along, jump up!” The Archduke’s tone was sharper. The words seemed to lift Lucas from the ground and hurl him up. He jumped, feeling as light as a feather, and in a trice was standing on the mat of the coach. The door closed with a bang.
    â€œLie down!”
    Lucas collapsed at the feet of his master as though he had been struck by lightning. Before him he could see only the dainty little shoes, with their glittering diamond buckles and red heels that shone like blood, while his nose could scent the delicate aromas exhaled by the Archduke’s silk stockings, his furs and his clothes.
    Swaying gently from side to side, the coach drove on. He could hear the dull rolling of the wheels, the snorting of the horses, and the faint jumble of murmuring voices.
    After a while he raised himself up cautiously and sat on his haunches, examining the Archduke more closely with eager curiosity. He saw his thin proud face, his pallid cheeks, his large bright eyes, gazing apathetically and superciliously into the distance, his hard mouth, always slightly open beneath his long refined nose, and his lower lip protruding as if in disdain. The listless face, with its expression of