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Updated: June 18, 2025
Irene blinked repeatedly, as if some disagreeable light had struck her eyes. "Always so gladsome, Cara!" "I?" cried the girl. "Oh, so! Puffie made me laugh and the sun shines so nicely. The day is beautiful, isn't it, Ira? Have you noticed how diamond sparks glitter on the snow? The trees are all covered with frost. Let us go with Miss Mary for a walk.
Take no trouble about what does not concern your own self and strive to develop your own individuality. Keep this in view, play joyously with Puffie, and go to sleep early, for long watching spoils the complexion of young ladies. Begin to think to-morrow of the dress which you will wear at that brilliant ball planned by our father to torment mamma and you will have success.
In the light of this thought that his life with its toils, its conflicts, and its triumphs could be an error, he saw, again, that Medusa-face, pale with terror. Puffie, perhaps frightened by the cry which had been rent from his master, fell to barking. Darvid turned from the desk, and his glance met the black wall beyond the door. "Was it an error?" he repeated.
But he had the cry within him, and with a quick and uneven tread he went toward the great lamp burning at the end of the perspective, in the centre of the open space between the walls of the dining-room. Behind him ran along Puffie, with all the speed of his shaggy feet. Meanwhile, in one of the drawing-rooms, the clock began to strike eleven one, two, three.
Finally, she caught Puffie in her arms, and, courtesying so low before Miss Mary that she touched the floor, announced that she was going to her father. From time immemorial she had not talked with him a moment. Sometimes he was going out, or had not the time.
Perhaps at the grandeur of the man who appears as a narrow line on the gray background of that window, black, and alone as he is, in the gathering gloom and the silence? Now something soft and timid touches his feet, and he sees a little dark point moving. He stoops and calls: "Puffie!" At the floor was heard thin barking. Puffie had always barked that way to call the attention of his mistress.
This was an answer thoroughly unexpected, but the impression which it might have made was hindered at once by Irene through a laugh and an exclamation too loud, perhaps: "See where pessimism is going to fix itself! Is Puffie sick?" "Cara's remark is precocious but pointed," said Maryan, with the edges of his lips. Malvina, too, began to speak.
Now she sat on the stool, and showed them in what a posture she had sat in presence of her father's guests, her hands on her knees, bolt upright, with dignity on her rosy face. Puffie alone interrupted this dignity, she said; he crawled up behind her, put his paws on her shoulder, and touched her with his moist nose.
But among the soft folds of cretonne and muslin the lofty door, ornamented with gilded arabesques and borders, opened slowly, and Cara walked into the chamber holding Puffie at her bosom. Her face was so bent that the lower part of it was hidden in the silky coat of the little animal. Miss Mary, sitting down again, inquired: "Where were you, Cara, after your father went away? With mamma?"
He smiled at his daughter, though his glance turned to the clock standing in the corner of the room. But Cara, with seriousness on her rosy face, stretched out to him the little dog, which had just wakened and was still sleepy. "First of all, I beg father to stroke Puffie Puffie is pretty, and he is good, stroke him just once, father."
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