His eyes shone with excitement.  It seemed to the doctor that he was caught in the whirlpool of a violent reaction.  He had shown fear, weakness; he was aware of it, and determined to reassert himself.  The doctor answered nothing, neither agreeing with his fantastic philosophy nor striving to controvert it.  And at this moment there was the sound of a struggle and of whining outside.  The door was pushed open, and Julian’s man appeared, hauling Rip along by the collar.  The little dog was hanging back, with all its force, and striving to get away.  Having succeeded in getting it into the room, the man quickly retreated, shutting the door hastily behind him.  The little dog was left with Valentine and the doctor.  It remained shrinking up against the door in a posture that denoted abject fear, its pretty head turned in the direction of Valentine, its eyes glaring, its teeth snapping at the air.  The doctor looked at it and at Valentine.  His pity for the dog’s condition was held in check by a strange fascination of curiosity.  He leaned his arms on the table and his eyes were fixed on Valentine, who got up slowly from his chair.

“I have let Rip be the prey of his absurd fancies long enough, doctor,” he said.  “To-night I will make him like me as he used to, or at least come to me.”

And he whistled to the dog and called Rip, standing by the table.  Rip howled and trembled in reply, and snapped more fiercely in the direction of Valentine.

“Do you see that, doctor?  But he shall come.  I will make him.”

He shut his lips firmly and stared upon the animal.  It was very evident that he was exerting himself strongly in some way.  Indeed, he looked like a man performing some tremendous physical feat.  Yet all his limbs were still.  The violence of his mind created the illusion.  Rip wavered against the door.  There was foam on his jaws and his white legs trembled.  Valentine snapped his fingers as one summoning or coaxing a dog.  The doctor started at the sound and leaned further forward along the table to see the upshot of this strange fight between a man’s desire and an animal’s fear.  Rip scarcely whined now, but turning his head rapidly from one side to the other, with a motion that seemed to become merely mechanical, he made a hoarse noise that was like a terrified and distressed growl half strangled in his throat.  But though he wavered against the door, he did not obey Valentine and go to him, and the doctor was conscious of a sudden thrill of joy in the dog’s obstinacy.  This obstinacy angered Valentine greatly.  His face clouded.  He bent forward.  He put out his hands as if to seize Rip.  The dog snapped at him frantically, wildly.  But Valentine did not recoil.  On the contrary, he advanced, bending down over the wretched little creature.  Then Rip shrank down on all fours before the door.  To the doctor’s watching eyes he seemed to wane visibly smaller.  He dropped his head.  Valentine bent lower.  Rip lay right down, pressing himself upon the floor.  As Valentine’s hand touched him a quiver ran over him, succeeded by a surprising stillness.