ie lay down on her little mattress and began to feel sad.

Melancholy crept on her imperceptibly and took possession of her
by degrees, as darkness does of a room. It began with the dog's
losing every inclination to bark, to eat, to run about the rooms,
and even to look at things; then vague figures, half dogs, half
human beings, with countenances attractive, pleasant, but
incomprehensible, would appear in her imagination; when they came
Auntie wagged her tail, and it seemed to her that she had somewhere,
at some time, seen them and loved them. And as she dropped asleep,
she always felt that those figures smelt of glue, shavings, and
varnish.

When she had grown quite used to her new life, and from a thin,
long mongrel, had changed into a sleek, well-groomed dog, her master
looked at her one day before the lesson and said:

"It's high time, Auntie, to get to business. You have kicked up
your heels in idleness long enough. I want to make an artiste of
you. . . . Do you want to be an artiste?"

And he began teaching her various accomplishments. At the first
lesson he taught her to stand and walk on her hind legs, which she
liked extremely. At the second lesson she had to jump on her hind
legs and catch some sugar, which her teacher held high above her
head. After that, in the following lessons she danced, ran tied to
a cord, howled to music, rang the bell, and fired the pistol, and
in a month could successfully replace Fyodor Timofeyitch in the
"Egyptian Pyramid." She learned very eagerly and was pleased with
her own success; running with her tongue out on the cord, leaping
through the hoop, and riding on old Fyodor Timofeyitch, gave her
the greatest enjoyment. She accompanied every successful trick with
a shrill, delighted bark, while her teacher wondered, was also
delighted, and rubbed his hands.

"It's talent! It's talent!" he said. "Unquestionable talent! You
will certainly be successful!"

And Auntie grew so used to the word talent, that every time her
master pronounced it, she jumped up as if it had been her name.

VI

_An Uneasy Night_

Auntie had a doggy dream that a porter ran after her with a broom,
and she woke up in a fright.

It was quite dark and very stuffy in the room. The fleas were biting.
Auntie had never been afraid of darkness before, but now, for some
reason, she felt frightened and inclined to bark.

Her master heaved a loud sigh in the next room, then soon afterwards
the sow grunted