One day, in a bright midday sun, an enormous bird coursed through the air. The man left his panther to look at his new guest; but after waiting a moment the deserted sultana growled deeply. “My goodness! I do believe she’s jealous,” he cried, seeing her eyes become hard again; “the soul of Virginie has passed into her body; that’s certain.” The eagle disappeared into the air, while the soldier admired the curved contour of the panther. But there was such youth and grace in her form! she was beautiful as a woman! the blond fur of her robe mingled well with the delicate tints of faint white which marked her flanks. The profuse light cast down by the sun made this living gold, these russet markings, to burn in a way to give them an indefinable attraction. The man and the panther looked at one another with a look full of meaning; the coquette quivered when she felt her friend stroke her head; her eyes flashed like lightning--then she shut them tightly. “She has a soul,” he said, looking at the stillness of this queen of the sands, golden like them, white like them, solitary and burning like them. “Well,” she said, “I have read your plea in favor of beasts; but how did two so well adapted to understand each other end?” “Ah, well! you see, they ended as all great passions do end--by a misunderstanding. For some reason ONE suspects the other of treason; they don’t come to an explanation through pride, and quarrel and part from sheer obstinacy.” “Yet sometimes at the best moments a single word or a look is enough--but anyhow go on with your story.” “It’s horribly difficult, but you will understand, after what the old villain told me over his champagne. He said--‘I don’t know if I hurt her, but she turned round, as if enraged, and with her sharp teeth caught hold of my leg--gently, I daresay; but I, thinking she would devour me, plunged my dagger into her throat. She rolled over, giving a cry that froze my heart; and I saw her dying, still looking at me without anger. I would have given all the world--my cross even, which I had not got then--to have brought her to life again. It was as though I had murdered a real person; and the soldiers who had seen my flag, and were come to my assistance, found me in tears.’ “‘Well sir,’ he said, after a moment of silence, ‘since then I have been in war in Germany, in Spain, in Russia, in France; I’ve certainly carried my carcase about a good deal, but never have I seen anything like the desert. Ah! yes, it is very beautiful!’ “‘What did you feel there?’ I asked him. “‘Oh! that can’t be described, young man! Besides, I am not always regretting my palm trees and my panther. I should have to be very melancholy for that. In the desert, you see, there is everything and nothing.’ “‘Yes, but explain----’ “‘Well,’ he said, with an impatient gesture, ‘it is God without mankind.’” End of Project Gutenberg’s A Passion in the Desert, by Honore de Balzac