TOBY-DOG, (_shaking his head_)
No. It's the road covered with white powder that makes the eyelids smart
and the paws burn, the tough, shriveled, sweet-smelling grass, where I
scratch my nose and my gums; it's the fearful night--for I'm the only
one to guard them, He and She. I lie in my basket, but the beating of my
poor overdriven heart keeps me awake. I hear a dog crying to me from far
off, that the Bad Man has passed on the road. Is he coming in my
direction? Will I be obliged in another minute, my eyes bloodshot and
tongue dry as chalk, to throw myself upon him and devour his shadowy
face?...
THE LITTLE DOG, (_trembling and in ecstasy_)
Go on! Go on! Oh! how frightened I am!...
TOBY-DOG, (_modestly_) Don't be afraid--it has never happened. All
that is the country, yes, and the interminable hill, in the shadow of
the carriage, when thirst, hunger, heat and fatigue, render the soul
submissive and hopeless ...
THE LITTLE DOG, (_quite worked up_)
And then?
TOBY-DOG
Oh, nothing. One arrives at the house, after all, and the pail of dark
water, one drinks without taking breath, ("his tongue," She says, "his
big tongue is parted in the center, like an iris-petal") while sore
eyelids and dusty lashes are splashed with cooling drops.
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