The Hound of Florence by Felix Salten

intoxicated.
    â€œMiserable creature!” repeated Master Pointner. The dog replied with a short bark that sounded like an exclamation of joy, and began circling round him, in a series of wonderful high springs, as though he were trying to catch his own tail.
    â€œDon’t hurt him,” pleaded the young groom, laughing. “Look how glad our old Cambyses is to be back again!”
    â€œGlad!” shouted Master Pointner, “the rascal! See what the brute makes us put up with. . . .” He struck out at the dog, but the blow only cleaved the air.
    â€œDamn the brute!” He struck out again and again, twisting and turning until he grew quite giddy. But all in vain. Suddenly, in a flash, the dog sprang at his chest. Light as a flock of down blown by the wind, he jumped, and before Master Pointner had time to wink an eyelid, he touched him gently with his paws, nudged him softly with his nose under the chin, and scampered out through the open door.
    Staggering slightly, Pointner also dashed out into the courtyard, blustering and shouting orders. But the dog only gamboled the more wildly over the warm, dazzling white gravel, circling round Pointner at a respectful distance, and barking so lustily that he drowned every other sound. Pointner roared and raved; the two might almost have been carrying on an argument. The dog’s bark sounded now like a note of jubilation, now like a cry of hatred, and yet again as though he were heaping reproaches on the head of the infuriated man. The young groom was holding his sides with laughter.
    Everything seemed to be in festive mood. Spacious flowering gardens enclosed the bright courtyard on every side, the sky, a deep azure, shimmered in the flaming rays of the sun, while at the windows of the Palace heads could be seen popping in and out, calling, laughing and chattering. The broad marble steps, which were so shallow that to ascend them felt more like floating through air than climbing, were thronged with gaily dressed people. The dog swept joyously up and down the steps, now stopping and waiting for Pointner, as though asking him “Whither?” then running back as much as to say, “Faster please!” or “What are you waiting for?” Whereupon in a couple of mighty bounds he would leap the stairs gracefully again. Seeing the crowds about, Pointner suspended hostilities, and as the dog sprang past, more than one hand was stretched out to pat the lively creature.
    He dashed gaily into the great hall, the door of which Pointner had opened. It was a stately apartment; huge, brightly colored pictures adorned its walls, while through many a lofty window the sun poured in at a sharp angle, gilding the floor with broad golden beams of light. Here a throng of people stood solemnly congregated, and the dog, pushing his way unceremoniously through them, was obliged to turn and look about him to find his master. The latter, in a pale blue, gold-­embroidered uniform, was standing by a stately personage in purple velvet, surrounded by a circle of ladies. Some of the company drew aside as the dog made his way between them; there was a rustle of silk dresses and a little girl standing near the Archduke shrieked with fright. But as soon as the dog saw the child, he dropped to the floor and lay motionless.
    â€œThat’s Cambyses, my traveling companion,” said the Archduke with a laugh. “See, Elizabeth, he’s quite tame.”
    The little girl began to smile timidly at the dog who still lay stretched on the ground, wagging his tail furiously. The whole company laughed.
    â€œWell, Elizabeth,” continued the Archduke, bending over the child and the dog, “shall we stroke him a little? He certainly does not deserve it, do you, Cambyses? He’s constantly running away, or disappearing, and no one can find him anywhere. But he always comes back.”
    And he patted the dog’s sides, while the little girl bent down