Білий ікол
The Love-Master
Atnight,whenthegodreturnedhome,WhiteFangwouldleavethewarmsleeping-placehehadburrowedinthesnowinordertoreceivethefriendlysnapoffingersandthewordofgreeting. Meat,evenmeatitself,hewouldforegotobewithhisgod,toreceiveacaressfromhimortoaccompanyhimdownintothetown.
Likehadbeenreplacedbylove. Andlovewastheplummetdroppeddownintothedeepsofhimwherelikehadnevergone. Andresponsiveoutofhisdeepshadcomethenewthing—love.Thatwhichwasgivenuntohimdidhereturn. Thiswasagodindeed,alove-god,awarmandradiantgod,inwhoselightWhiteFang’snatureexpandedasaflowerexpandsunderthesun.
ButWhiteFangwasnotdemonstrative. Hewastooold,toofirmlymoulded,tobecomeadeptatexpressinghimselfinnewways. Hewastooself-possessed,toostronglypoisedinhisownisolation. Toolonghadhecultivatedreticence,aloofness,andmoroseness. Hehadneverbarkedinhislife,andhecouldnotnowlearntobarkawelcomewhenhisgodapproached. Hewasneverintheway,neverextravagantnorfoolishintheexpressionofhislove.Heneverrantomeethisgod.Hewaitedatadistance;buthealwayswaited,wasalwaysthere. Hislovepartookofthenatureofworship,dumb,inarticulate,asilentadoration. Onlybythesteadyregardofhiseyesdidheexpresshislove,andbytheunceasingfollowingwithhiseyesofhisgod’severymovement. Also,attimes,whenhisgodlookedathimandspoketohim,hebetrayedanawkwardself-consciousness,causedbythestruggleofhislovetoexpressitselfandhisphysicalinabilitytoexpressit.
Helearnedtoadjusthimselfinmanywaystohisnewmodeoflife. Itwasborneinuponhimthathemustlethismaster’sdogsalone.
