“It is the panther, above all, that I forbid you to feed. Yes, her, above all the rest.”      

       “By the horns of the devil!” cried Goliath, “what is the matter with you to-day? I can make nothing of it. It is a pity that Karl’s not here; he, being cunning, would help me to understand why you prevent the beasts from eating when they are hungry.”      

       “You have no need to understand it.”      

       “Will not Karl soon come back?”      

       “He has already come back.”      

       “Where is he, then?”      

       “Off again.”      

       “What can be going on here? There is something in the wind. Karl goes, and returns, and goes again, and—”      

       “We are not talking of Karl, but of you; though hungry as a wolf you are cunning as a fox, and, when it suits you, as cunning as Karl.” And, changing on the sudden his tone and manner, Morok slapped the giant cordially on the shoulder.     

       “What! am I cunning?”      

       “The proof is, that there are ten florins to earn to-night—and you will be keen enough to earn them, I am sure.”      

       “Why, on those terms, yes—I am awake,” said the giant, smiling with a stupid, self-satisfied air. “What must I do for ten florins?”      

       “You shall see.”      

       “Is it hard work?”      

       “You shall see. Begin by going to the burgomaster’s—but first light the fire in that stove.” He pointed to it with his finger.     

       “Yes, master,” said Goliath, somewhat consoled for the delay of his supper by the hope of gaining ten florins.     

       “Put that iron bar in the stove,” added the Prophet, “to make it red-hot.”      

       “Yes, master.”      

       “You will leave it there; go to the burgomaster’s, and return here to wait for me.”      

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