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"Is Seer Marcous still angry with me?" asked Carlotta, and the
simple plaintiveness of her voice would have melted the bust of
Nero. I lectured her on cruelty to animals. That one had duties
of kindness towards the lower creation appealed to her as a
totally new idea. Supposing the dog had broken all its legs and
ribs, would she not have been sorry? She answered frankly in the
negative. It was a nasty little dog. If she had hurt it badly,
so much the better. What did it matter if a dog was hurt? She
was sorry now she had hurled it into space, because it belonged
to my friends, and that had made me cross with her.
Of course I was shocked at the thoughtless cruelty of the action;
but my anger had also its roots in dismay at the public scandal
it might have caused, and in the discovery that I was known to
the victim's owner. It is the sad fate of the instructors of
youth that they must hypocritically credit themselves with only
the sublimest of motives. I spoke to Carlotta like the good
father in the "Swiss Family Robinson.


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