Sure enough I am fond of the
wide expanse of sky and land. I always was fond of it; but instead of
perching by night upon a high branch of a tall tree, rocked by the wind,
I now prefer to return to my cavern, to drink a glass, to pick a bone of
venison, and dry my plumage before a warm fire. The Count of Nideck does
not disdain Sperver, the old hawk, the true man of the woods. One
evening, meeting me by moonlight, he frankly said to me, 'Old comrade,
you hunt only by night. Come and hunt by day with me. You have a sharp
beak and strong claws. Well, hunt away, if such is your nature; but hunt
by my licence, for I am the eagle upon these mountains, and my name is
Nideck!'"
Sperver was silent a few minutes; then he resumed--
"That was just what suited me, and now I hunt as I used to do, and I
quietly drink along with a friend my bottle of Affenthal or--"
At that moment there was a shock that made the door vibrate; Sperver
stopped and listened.
"It is a gust of wind," I said.
"No, it is something else. Don't you hear the scratching of claws?
It is a dog that has escaped. Open, Lieverle, open, Blitzen!" cried
the huntsman, rising; but he had not gone a couple of steps when a
formidable-looking hound of the Danish breed broke into the tower, and
ran to lay his heavy paws on his master's shoulders, licking his beard
and his cheeks with his long rose-coloured tongue, uttering all the while
short barks and yelps expressive of his joy.
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