Doubts as to whether the dog understood me; in what way she understood me; what sort of creature a dog really was--whether she could "think," "feel," or even whether she was capable of hearing in the same way as we hear; able to see in the same way that we see with our eyes; whether she already possessed some cognition of the human language, and whether this possessed any meaning for her? For all at once I _knew_ that I _knew nothing_. That I had not even the least idea as to the best manner to assume, whether I ought to be gentle or strict--these are but a few of the difficulties I found myself beset by. I was, in short, almost in despair. How could I presume to form an opinion, supposing that, merely to my own shortcomings, the animal remained an animal, that is--in as far as I was concerned--an "animal" in the same sense that all creatures have been, since time immemorial--according to man's opinion? How should I dare to attempt to add my contribution to man's store of knowledge in so weighty a matter without as much as knowing whether I possessed the requisite patience--a genuine gift for imparting tuition, and a sufficient measure of devotion? Above all, how could I have been so foolhardy as to have undertaken to make my investigations in connexion with a descendant of Rolf's! Indeed, my only excuse could be my intense love of knowledge, my reverence and high regard for science. Science--whose temple we may enter only when filled with intensest Will, and with pure Truthfulness vowed to the furtherance of her Service--be the results sweet or bitter, fraught with success or failure, easy or difficult, new, or along the well-worn paths. It was in _this_ sense that I sought to adventure--was bound to venture, for the die was cast. It was, therefore, with all the powers I could bring to my aid that I decided to embark on my quest--no matter what the attendant results might force me to acknowledge. I would disregard no test that might prove a contribution towards the solving of this new question.