CHICHESTER 277 



Meanwhile my landlady had changed her mind, 

 and when I was ready to take the bird she informed 

 me that she had decided not to part with it ; that on 

 thinking the matter over she had found out that she 

 had become attached to the owl, and she also thought 

 that the bird would be unhappy if taken from the 

 home and the surroundings he was accustomed to. 



In vain I begged and pleaded, not that day only, 

 but the next, and for several days. She would not 

 part with the bird for love or money. Up till then I 

 had visited the bird every day, and opening its cage 

 would put my hand in to caress it. It liked to be 

 gently stroked on the breast, and when caressed in 

 this way would play with my fingers, biting them but 

 very gently with his beak. But from that time I was 

 ashamed to go near him, or even to look at him ; for 

 I had promised him his liberty, and could not keep 

 my word. Nor was it necessary that I should look 

 at to see him; his melancholy image was too deeply 

 graved in my mind — a feathered Dreyfus, Semitic 

 features and all, the head bowed, the weary eyes 

 closed, the hooked nose just visible amidst a wilder- 

 ness of white whiskers. I could only try to believe 

 that there is some foundation for the ancient belief 

 held in so many lands, that the owl is indeed a 

 supernatural, or sacred, bird ; that when this captive 

 had been tortured to death and its carcase thrown into 

 the dust-heap, the loving kindness that had been shown 

 to him would have a swift and suitable reward. 



