The Hound of Florence Read Free Page B

on their helmets, they were clearly distinguishable. Yes, there were the traveling coaches, like crawling black beetles. Behind them came another troop of horsemen.
    Lucas kept his eyes fixed on the procession. It formed a whole community making its exodus. Advancing in close array, it constituted a single whole that had cut itself adrift from the town and left behind it all those who must remain rooted to the place. Far away in the distance, further than eye could see, in a foreign land, lay the goal that lured it on. Night and day it would march forward until at last it reached that goal and was swallowed up in its wide embrace. Lucas gazed into the distance. His eyes felt an irresistible impulse to follow the procession. He could visualize the whole journey. His heart began to beat furiously. “Oh how lucky they are!” he sighed. “How lucky they are!”
    Then, remembering the beautiful dog he had seen running by the side of the Archduke’s carriage, he banged his fist down on the window-sill. “Oh God!” he raged, “I envy even that dog!” At each word, he thumped the window-sill. “If only I could go with them—with them!” Then, seized by a sudden inspiration, he added: “If I were allowed to be myself every other day, only every other day, I wouldn’t mind a bit. . . . I shouldn’t mind being that dog if I could go with them on their journey. . . .”
    Whereupon in the twinkling of an eye he found he was a dog running along by the side of the Archduke’s coach.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    When he struck the window-sill with his fist, Lucas had not noticed that there was a ruddy-looking metal ring sunk into the dirty old wood-work. Indeed, in his excitement, he was quite unconscious of the violent movements of his hand. How was he to know that the thin yellow hoop which cut a circle in the wood, was of pure gold? How was he to guess that the spot where it was imbedded possessed the virtue of fulfilling for anyone a wish expressed while his hand lay on the magic circle? Lucas had spoken and, without knowing it, he had brought down his fist inside the magic circle with every word he uttered. And thus the miracle had taken place! All he had felt was a sort of giddiness seizing him as he uttered the last words; everything had reeled before his eyes, as if he were falling into a deep swoon. A violent blow had struck him and taken away his breath. Everything had happened in a flash.
    I must be dreaming, he thought, as he bounded along beside the Archduke’s coach. He was conscious that the dog’s body was his own, and though he could hardly believe it, he was pleasantly surprised. He marveled that he could run along on four legs, and thought it a great joke. Yet he was amazed to find it quite natural and comfortable. Numberless scents, of which he had never before been aware, filled the air on every side, and he felt an irresistible longing to sniff them out and find whither they led. He was conscious of the rattling of wheels all around him, a confusion of voices, and the clatter of a hundred horses’ hooves, like the beating of hailstones in a storm. His thoughts were turbid, yet entirely alert and wakeful.
    I’m dreaming, he thought. I’m dreaming a wonderful dream.
    Then for a moment he was overcome with a feeling of unnameable horror. He tried to cry out, but all he heard was a bark. Whereupon his terror turned to such wonderful good cheer, that he was forced to laugh. But his laugh too sounded like a rather shrill, quivering bark, and in uttering it he could not resist the impulse to throw his head up. At the same moment, he saw above him the Archduke’s pale face leaning forward and looking down at him through the crystal window of the coach. He felt rather frightened, and quickly dropped his head again.
    What a mad dream.
    His limbs were filled with a desire to spring and jump about, and he bounded forward