to the veranda in the most friendly way
possible. Ferrari was completely restored to good humor, and Nina, I
thought, was rather relieved to see it. She was evidently afraid of
Ferrari--a good point for me to remember. She smiled a welcome to us as
we approached, and began to pour out the fragrant coffee. It was a
glorious evening; the moon was already high in the heavens, and the
nightingales' voices echoed softly from the distant woods. As I seated
myself in a low chair that was placed invitingly near that of my
hostess, my ears were startled by a long melancholy howl, which changed
every now and then to an impatient whine.

"What is that?" I asked, though the question was needless, for I knew
the sound.

"Oh, it is that tiresome dog Wyvis," answered Nina, in a vexed tone.
"He belonged to Fabio. He makes the evening quite miserable with his
moaning."

"Where is he?"

"Well, after my husband's death he became so troublesome, roaming all
over the house and wailing; and then he would insist on sleeping in
Stella's room close to her bedside. He really worried me both day and
night, so I was compelled to chain him up."

Poor Wyvis! He was sorely punished for his fidelity.

"I am very fond of dogs," I said, slowly, "and they generally take to
me with extraordinary devotion. May I see this one of yours?"

"Oh, certainly! Guido, will you go and unfasten him?"

Guido did not move; he leaned easily back in his chair sipping his
coffee.

"Many thanks," he answered, with a half laugh; "perhaps you forget that
last time I did so he nearly tore me to pieces. If you do not object, I
would rather Giacomo undertook the task."

"After such an account of the animal's conduct, perhaps the conte will
not care to see him. It is true enough," turning to me as she spoke,
"Wyvis has taken a great dislike to Signor Ferrari--and yet he is a
good-natured dog, and plays with my little girl all day if she goes to
him. Do you feel inclined to see him? Yes?" And, as I bowed in the
affirmative, she rang a little bell twice, and the butler appeared.

"Giacomo," she continued, "unloose Wyvis and send him here."

Giacomo gave me another of those timid questioning glances, and
departed to execute his order. In another five minutes, the howling had
suddenly ceased, a long, lithe, black, shadowy creature came leaping
wildly across the moonlighted lawn--Wyvis was racing at full speed. He
paid no heed to his mistress or Ferrari; he rushed str