He laughed as he exclaimed: 'Ripe grapes, thou sayest?
Our foxes do not love ripe grapes and seldom steal them.

I assure you, it was sour grapes that the villain wanted, and never did they seem so exquisitely sour as when he found out that he could not reach them.

How his poor mouth watered!' This was new light upon an ancient theme for us, his hearers.
After an hour or two of idle waiting, when no foxes came, we went to bed, forgetting all about the hanging dog.
The house was close beside a carriage road which leads down from the chief town of the mountains to the city, passing many villages.

As it was summer, when the wealthy citizens sleep in the mountain villages for coolness' sake, from the dawn onward there was a downward stream of carriages along that road.

When the daylight became strong enough for men to see distinctly, the sight of a great brown and white dog hanging from our balcony, and slowly turning, struck terror in the breasts of passers-by.