boys and three girls—kept laughing while they undressed; I had thrown myself down in my clothes on the straw, I was among strangers, after all, and they were under
no obligation to take me in. For a little while, propped up on my elbows, I watched the half-naked children playing in a corner. But then I felt so tired that I put my head
on my rucksack, stretched out my arms, let my eyes travel along the roof beams a while longer, and fell asleep. In my first sleep I thought I could still hear one boy
shout, “Watch out, he’s coming!” whereupon the noise of the hurried tripping of the children running to their beds penetrated my already receding consciousness.
I had surely slept only a very short time, for when I awoke the moonlight still fell almost unchanged through the window on the same part of the floor. I did not know
why I had awakened—my sleep had been dreamless and deep. Then near me, at about the height of my ear, I saw a very small bushy dog, one of those repulsive little
lap dogs with disproportionately large heads encircled by curly hair, whose eyes and muzzle are loosely set into their heads like ornaments made out of some kind of
lifeless horny substance. What was a city dog like this doing in the village! What was it that made it roam the house at night? Why did it stand next to my ear? I
hissed at it to make it go away; perhaps it was the children’s pet and had simply strayed to my side. It was frightened by my hissing but did not run away, only turned
around, then stood there on its crooked little legs and I could see its stunted (especially by contrast with its large head) little body.
Since it continued to stand there quietly, I tried to go back to sleep, but could not; over and over again in the space immediately before my closed eyes I could see the
dog rocking back and forth with its protruding eyes. It was unbearable, I could not stand the animal near me; I rose and picked it up in my arms to carry it outside. But
though it had been apathetic until then, it now began to defend itself and tried to seize me with its claws. Thus I was forced to hold its little paws fast too—an easy
matter, of course; I was able to hold all four in one hand. “So, my pet,” I said to the excited little head with its trembling curls, and went into the dark with it, looking for
the door.
Only now did it strike me how silent the little dog was, it neither barked nor squeaked, though I could feel its blood pounding wildly through its arteries. After a few
steps—the dog had claimed all my attention and made me careless—greatly to my annoyance, I stumbled over one of the sleeping children. It was now very dark in the
attic, only a little light still came through the skylight. The child sighed, I stood still for a moment, dared not move even my toe away lest any change waken the child still
more. It was too late; suddenly, all around me, I saw the children rising up in their white shifts as though by agreement, as though on command. It was not my fault; I
had made only one child wake up, though it had not really been an awakening at all, only a slight disturbance that a child should have easily slept through. But now they
were awake. “What do you want, children?” I asked. “Go back to sleep.”
“You’re carrying something,” one of the boys said, and all five children searched my person.
“Yes,” I said; I had nothing to hide, if the children wanted to take the dog out, so much the better. “I’m taking this dog outside. It was keeping me from sleeping. Do
you know whose it is?”
“Mrs. Cruster’s,” at least that’s what I thought I made of their confused, indistinct drowsy shouts which were intended not for me but only for each other.
“Who is Mrs. Cruster?” I asked, but got no further answer from the excited children. One of them took the dog, which had now become entirely still, from my arm and