Every man-eating creature thinks the same: the wolf believes Man to
be his prey; the crocodile believes him to be his; an old lion is
probably sure that a man's young wife is designed for his maw
alone. So she is, if he manages to catch her."

As David said this rather unexpectedly to himself, he fell into a
novel revery, forgetting philosophy and brute kind. It was late
when David finished his work that day. Toward nightfall the cloud
had parted in the west; the sun had gone down with dark curtains
closing heavily over it. Later, the cloud had parted in the east,
and the moon had arisen amid white fleeces and floated above banks
of pearl. Shining upon all splendid things else, it illumined one
poor scene which must not be forgotten: the rear of an old barn, a
sagging roof of rotting shingles; a few common sheep passing in,
driven by a shepherd dog; and a big thoughtful boy holding the door
open.

He had shifted the stock to make way for these additional
pensioners, putting the horses into the new stalls, the cows where
the horses had been, and the sheep under the shed of the cows. (It
is the horse that always gets the best of everything in a stable.)
He reproached himself that he did least for the creatures that
demanded least

"That's the nature of man," he said disapprovingly, "topmost of all
brutes."

When he stepped out of doors after supper that night, the clouds
had hidden the moon. But there was light enough for him to see his
way across the ice fields to Gabriella. The Star of Love shone