There was something brutal in the way Eberhard Ludwig teased the dog that morning; he hurt the poor brute, pulling his short, sensitive ears, drawing Melac roughly back then flinging him away. It was a cruel game, more like a combat between man and hound; and Melac, good, generous beast though he was, began to get angry. The Duke's hand had been scratched by the dog's sharp teeth, and the wolf-hound tasting blood, grew ferocious. With a growl Melac suddenly reared up on his hind legs and placed his front paws on the Duke's breast, his teeth bared in an ugly snarl. Eberhard Ludwig laughed, but the dog's fangs were dangerously near his Highness's throat; and indeed it was no laughing matter, for a wolf-hound, once his teeth are fastened in a man's throat, does not leave his prey alive. It was a grim comedy. Wilhelmine rose from her chair near the window and came forward. 'Leave him to me!' shouted the Duke, at length aware of his danger. He gripped Melac by the ears and held the beast from him; but the hound was thoroughly aroused, and Eberhard Ludwig felt that it was an unequal contest in spite of his strength. Wilhelmine advanced fearlessly, and laying her hand upon the dog's head, she leaned round till she faced the snarling brute. 'What are you doing, Wilhelmine?' panted the Duke. 'For God's sake do not put your face so close to his teeth!' 'I know what I am doing, mon Prince,' she said calmly. As at Guestrow, when Mueller had attacked her, she now narrowed her lids and forced her will into her eyes. Gradually she felt her mastery working on Melac; his jaws dropped, no longer fiercely baring the teeth but as though he had run a long distance, the whole mouth became weak, the red tongue protruding. With a whine the dog fell, his front paws slipping from the Duke's shoulders. Shuddering, the great animal crouched on the floor, his eyes still resting on Wilhelmine with an expression of abject terror. 'Lie quiet, Melac! There--good dog!' She stroked his head, and the hound fawned upon her, dragging himself round her feet, crawling, abased. Eberhard Ludwig caught her hand, and his own trembled a little. 'What an extraordinary thing! Did you put a spell upon Melac? I have never seen him thus cowed! Beloved, I believe I owe my life to you this morning,' he said. Wilhelmine passed her hand across her eyes. 'So may all your enemies be defeated!' she said, laughing. 'Could you make me tremble like that with your wonderful eyes?' he asked. He was fascinated, yet there was something terrible to him in this woman's power. 'Mon Prince, you are my master always,' she returned; and the subtle flattery of being the avowed ruler of so potent a being delighted him, as it pleases all men, who are obviously slaves, to be called master by the woman who controls them.