er, and the second she
had the right to nip by the calves of their legs.) These customers
were hurrying off somewhere and paid no attention to her.

When it got quite dark, Kashtanka was overcome by despair and horror.
She huddled up in an entrance and began whining piteously. The long
day's journeying with Luka Alexandritch had exhausted her, her ears
and her paws were freezing, and, what was more, she was terribly
hungry. Only twice in the whole day had she tasted a morsel: she
had eaten a little paste at the bookbinder's, and in one of the
taverns she had found a sausage skin on the floor, near the counter
--that was all. If she had been a human being she would have
certainly thought: "No, it is impossible to live like this! I must
shoot myself!"

II

_A Mysterious Stranger_

But she thought of nothing, she simply whined. When her head and
back were entirely plastered over with the soft feathery snow, and
she had sunk into a painful doze of exhaustion, all at once the
door of the entrance clicked, creaked, and struck her on the side.
She jumped up. A man belonging to the class of customers came out.
As Kashtanka whined and got under his feet, he could not help
noticing her. He bent down to her and asked:

"Doggy, where do you come from? Have I hurt you? O, poor thing,
poor thing. . . . Come, don't be cross, don't be cross. . . . I am
sorry."

Kashtanka looked at the stranger through the snow-flakes that hung
on her eyelashes, and saw before her a short, fat little man, with
a plump, shaven face wearing a top hat and a fur coat that swung
open.

"What are you whining for?" he went on, knocking the snow off her
back with his fingers. "Where is your master? I suppose you are
lost? Ah, poor doggy! What are we going to do now?"

Catching in the stranger's voice a warm, cordial note, Kashtanka
licked his hand, and whined still more pitifully.

"Oh, you nice funny thing!" said the stranger. "A regular fox! Well,
there's nothing for it, you must come along with me! Perhaps you
will be of use for something. . . . Well!"

He clicked with his lips, and made a sign to Kashtanka with his
hand, which could only mean one thing: "Come along!" Kashtanka went.

Not more than half an hour later she was sitting on the floor in a
big, light room, and, leaning her head against her side, was looking
with tenderness and curiosity at the stranger who was sitting at
the table, dining. He ate and threw pieces to her. . . . At f