The Invisible Eye: Tales of Terror by Emile Erckmann and Louis Alexandre Chatrian. Hugh Lamb
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that the picture may be complete, we will put in that rascal yonder.’
I indicated the dog which lay stretched upon the floor asleep, his muzzle resting upon his paws.
The old keeper gazed at me with tearful eyes.
‘I knew you were a good fellow,’ he said after a short silence. ‘It will give me great pleasure to be painted with my little granddaughter; she at least shall see me as I am now. And if in time she should marry and have children, she will be able to say: “That is Grandfather Frantz, just as he used to be.”’
Louise at this moment quitted the room. The old keeper wished to call her back, but his voice was husky, and he could not. A few moments afterwards, having coughed two or three times behind his hand, he resumed, pointing to the dog: ‘That, Monsieur Théodore, is a good greyhound, I do not deny; he has a good nose and strength of limb, but there are others as good. If you do not mind, we will put the other in the picture.’
He whistled, and the terrier bounded into the room; the greyhound also got up, and both dogs came wagging their tails to rub their noses against their master’s knees.
‘They are both good animals,’ he said as he caressed them. ‘Yes, Fox has good qualities; he has a good nose still, notwithstanding his age. I should wrong him were I to deny it. But if you want a rare dog, look at Waldine there. She has a nose as fine, ay, finer than, the other, she is gentle, never tires, and has all the qualities a good dog ought to have. But this is all beside the question, M. Théodore; what we have to look for in animals is good sense and “ready wit”.’
‘Rest assured, Père Frantz,’ I replied, ‘we will put both of them in!’
Père Frantz then invited me to see my room. I took up my knapsack, and we went outside to ascend to the gallery. Two doors opened upon the balcony; we passed the first, pushing aside the clustering ivy which stretched across the balustrade, and Père Honeck opened the farther door.
One can scarcely picture my happiness when I reflected that I was about to pass a fortnight – a month – perhaps the whole of the beautiful season – in the midst of these verdant scenes of nature far from the busy hum of men.
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