We looked at the dog. The half-gnawed bone was still between his
forepaws, but with head raised high, ears cocked up, and flashing eye,
he was listening intently--listening to the silence as it were, and an
angry quivering ran down the length of his back.

Sperver and I fixed on each other anxious eyes; yet there was not a
sound, not a breath outside, for the wind had gone down; nothing could be
heard but the deep protracted growl which came from deep down the chest
of the noble hound.

Suddenly he sprang up and bounded impetuously against the wall with a
hoarse, rough bark of fearful loudness. The walls re-echoed just as if
a clap of thunder had rattled the casements.

Lieverlé, with his head low down, seemed to want to see through the
granite, and his lips drawn back from his teeth discovered them to the
very gums, displaying two close rows of fangs white as ivory. Still he
growled. For a moment he would stop abruptly with his nose snuffing close
to the wall, next the floor, with strong respirations; then he would rise
again in a fresh rage, and with his forepaws seemed as if he would break
through the granite.

We watched in silence without being able to understand what caused his
excitement.

Another yell of rage more terrible than the first made us spring from our
seats.

"Lieverlé! what possesses you? Are you going mad?"