On a sudden, a dog in the passage set up a lamentable howl, a howl so piercing that on the spot the room became as still as death.
“What is that?”
Roch had dashed out so suddenly that he had narrowly missed falling over the cabbage-cutter.
“No great thing,” Antek cried, after a look into the passage; “some lad has been squeezing a dog’s tail in the doorway.”
“Vitek’s work, I make no doubt,” Boryna said.
Yuzka defended the boy most earnestly: “What, Vitek cruel to a dog? Never!”
Roch now returned, very greatly agitated. He had probably let the dog loose, for it was heard outside, whining close to the fence.
“A dog, too, is God’s creature,” he said excitedly, “and it suffers when ill-treated, as does any man. Our Lord also had a dog of His own, and suffered no one to use it ill.”
“What? The Lord Jesus had a dog, just as men have?” queried Yagustynka the doubter.
“I tell you that He had; and Burek was its name.”
The statement was received with a chorus of exclamations: “Well-a-day!—How now? Can this be!” and so on.
Roch was silent for a while; then, raising his hoary head, covered with long hair save in front, where it was cut straight and short over the forehead, and fixing upon the fire those eyes out of which the colour seemed to have been washed by many a tear, he began to speak slowly, his beads slipping meanwhile through his fingers.
“In those far-off bygone times, when Jesus our Lord yet walked upon this earth, and ruled over the nations in His own Person, the thing of which I shall tell you came to pass.
“Now, Jesus was going to the local feast in the parish of Mstov. And there was no road thither, but the way was through desolate burning sands only; and the sun beat hot upon them, and the air was even as when a storm is nigh at hand.
“Nor was there any shade or shelter anywhere.
“Our Lord walked on patiently; but though He was not yet near the forest, His holy feet were quite numb with weary travel, and He felt exceeding great thirst. Therefore did he again and again stop to rest on some hillock upon the way: albeit the heat there was still greater, and there was not enough shadow from the few dry stalks of mullein for even a fowl of the air to find shelter.
“But when He had seated Himself, it was hard for Him, without air to breathe; for lo, immediately the Evil One—as a foul goshawk swooping down on some weary little bird—would swoop down, beating up the sand with his hoofs, and wallowing therein as would some unclean beast; and a cloud of sand arose, hiding all things from sight in darkness.
“Now Our Lord, although He neither could well breathe, nor indeed move (so dark it was), rose up and walked on, only laughing to scorn the foolish one, the fiend who would make Him lose His way, so that He might not be there at the local feast to save the sinful people.
“And Jesus walked and walked, until He came to the forest.
“There, in the shadow, He rested somewhat, and refreshed Himself with water, and with that which was in His scrip. … Then, breaking off a bough for a staff, He crossed Himself, and entered the forest.
“Now, that forest was most ancient and thick, with great fastnesses of deep mire, and matted tangles of undergrowth and dense brushwood, almost impervious even for a bird, wherein the Evil One himself surely did dwell. Yet Jesus entered thither.
“Whereupon, what did the fiend not do? He shook the forest, and howled, and broke in twain the great branches with the help of the blast, as his wicked attendant aiding him all it could; blowing the oak-trees down, tearing the branches off, and roaring through the forest like one mad!
“Moreover, it grew dark, blindingly dark, and on this side there was a hubbub, and on that side a din, and on the other a whirlwind. And round about Jesus there ran hellish imps, leaping, showing their long teeth, glaring and snarling, and all but clutching at Him with their claws. Only that they durst not do, for the awe they had of Christ’s most sacred Person.
“But when our Lord grew weary of all those foolish hobgoblins, being in haste to arrive at the local feast, He made the sign of the Cross over them—and behold, all the evil spirits with their impish helpers straightway disappeared in the brushwood.
“And lo, there remained only one wild dog; for in those days the dog had not yet become the friend of man.
“This dog therefore fled not, but, running after our Lord, barked at Him; and following after, it tore at His capote, and snapped at His scrip, and would fain have seized the meat which was therein. … But our Lord, being merciful, and unwilling to harm any of His creatures, said unto it:
“ ‘Silly one, hungry one, behold! here is meat for thee!’ And He threw it some, which He took from out of His scrip.
“But the dog waxed still more angry, and in its fury it bared its teeth and, snarling, attacked our Lord, and tore the hose which He was wearing.
“ ‘I gave bread unto thee; I harmed thee not: and yet thou tearest My garments, and barkest to no avail? Thou art foolish, thou little dog of mine, that thou knowest not thy Master! Because thou hast done this, shalt thou be the servant of man, and helpless without him evermore.’
“When our Lord had said this, speaking in a loud voice, the dog sat down on its hind quarters; and then, stupefied, with its tail between its
