ordinarily sagacious beast,
whom Wilhelmine declared to be a hater of dullness because he had ever
been surly towards Johanna Elizabetha. For the favourite the dog had a
marked affection; he would lie near her with his large head resting on
her foot, while his patient eyes looked up at her with that strange,
unblinking gaze which is characteristic of the wolf-hound.

There was something brutal in the way Eberhard Ludwig teased the dog that
morning; he hurt the poor brute, pulling his short, sensitive ears,
drawing Melac roughly back then flinging him away. It was a cruel game,
more like a combat between man and hound; and Melac, good, generous beast
though he was, began to get angry. The Duke's hand had been scratched by
the dog's sharp teeth, and the wolf-hound tasting blood, grew ferocious.
With a growl Melac suddenly reared up on his hind legs and placed his
front paws on the Duke's breast, his teeth bared in an ugly snarl.
Eberhard Ludwig laughed, but the dog's fangs were dangerously near his
Highness's throat; and indeed it was no laughing matter, for a
wolf-hound, once his teeth are fastened in a man's throat, does not leave
his prey alive. It was a grim comedy. Wilhelmine rose from her chair near
the window and came forward.

'Leave him to me!' shouted the Duke, at length aware of his danger. He
gripped Melac by the ears and held the beast from him; but the hound was
thoroughly aroused, and Eberhard Ludwig felt that it was an unequal
contest in spite of his strength.

Wilhelmine advanced fearlessly, and laying her hand upon the dog's head,
she leaned round till she faced the snarling brute.

'What are you doing, Wilhelmine?' panted the Duke. 'For God's sake do not
put your face so close to his teeth!'

'I know what I am doing, mon Prince,' she said calmly.

As at Guestrow, when Mueller had attacked her, she now narrowed her lids
and forced her will into her eyes. Gradually she felt her mastery working
on Melac; his jaws dropped, no longer fiercely baring the teeth but as
though he had run a long distance, the whole mouth became weak, the red
tongue protruding. With a whine the dog fell, his front paws slipping
from the Duke's shoulders. Shuddering, the great animal crouched on the
floor, his eyes still resting on Wilhelmine with an expression of abject
terror.

'Lie quiet, Melac! There--good dog!' She stroked his head, and the hound
fawned upon her, dragging himself round her feet, crawling, abased.

Ebe