But even then Judas still trusted him--and then he suddenly restored the stolen treasure to the grandee, and again deceived Judas.

Yes, everything deceived him, even animals.

Whenever he pets a dog it bites his fingers; but when he beats it with a stick it licks his feet, and looks into his eyes like a daughter.

He killed one such dog, and buried it deep, laying a great stone on the top of it--but who knows?
Perhaps just because he killed it, it has come to life again, and instead of lying in the trench, is running about cheerfully with other dogs.
All laughed merrily at Judas' tale, and he smiled pleasantly himself, winking his one lively, mocking eye--and by that very smile confessed that he had lied somewhat; that he had not really killed the dog.

But he meant to find it and kill it, because he did not wish to be deceived.
And at these words of Judas they laughed all the more.
But sometimes in his tales he transgressed the bounds of probability, and ascribed to people such proclivities as even the beasts do not possess, accusing them of such crimes as are not, and never have been.
And since he named in this connection the most honoured people, some were indignant at the calumny, while others jokingly asked: "How about your own father and mother, Judas--were they not good people ?" Judas winked his eye, and smiled with a gesture of his hands.