“When the clamour first arose Sultan turned his head towards the multitude, [p156] which he looked at with really sublime tranquillity for an amateur, as my friend pointed out to me. No doubt it was the vivid light and the movement of the crowd which made the lion wink—yes, his eyes twinkled. And in itself that gave a shadow of indulgence to his strength. But now he returned to his captive, tormenting, teasing, mumbling, rather than biting him. It was like the play of a pupil who emancipates himself, but is yet conscious of his fault. But then it was lion’s play! Sultan moved in small jumps, all four paws together, turning his hind quarters to the gallery, tossing his jaws, full of no one knew what . . . . perhaps a human head! [Illustration] “Here I can guarantee, my dear Le Roux, that those who at first shared my friend’s infamous and fortunately indefinite wish, must, like him, have found themselves almost fainting before such a realization of carnage. . . . It was frightful and senseless. One felt scarcely alive, and no longer heard oneself howl. Suddenly the lion relinquished his prey and steadily watched the back of the cage, behind which he must have caught the sound of some noise only perceptible to a feline ear in the tumult of this bloody orgie. In the midst of the excitement the door was abruptly opened and two men appeared, presenting like bayonets two simple iron bars. [p157] “When he saw them Sultan timidly drew back like a guilty schoolboy who has failed in respect towards his master, and who is recalled to his duty by the entrance of the monitors. He was already in retreat, backing into the neighbouring cage, spurred on by the vibrations of the partition which the men were handling. “Already, too, Bidel had been raised, and his first energetic movement was to rush towards the lion, who, now separated from his enemy, watched him through the railing, rather jeeringly moving his head from right to left. A thunder of ‘Bravos’ and shouts of ‘Enough! enough!’ stopped the lion-tamer, who had one half of his neck laid open. From his forehead, just between the eyes, a red strip hung down. The linen showed everywhere beneath the holes in the cloth. The skin on his knees was bare, yet intact. “After this scene, whilst the wounded man received the first dressing to his wounds in his travelling-van, the general attention was drawn towards Sultan, who had returned to the society of his comrade Nero, the _blonde_ lion, who was languidly stretched out, digesting his daily rations of meat and blows. But the dark-haired lion did not lie down; he restlessly prowled up and down in suppressed excitement, his haughty nostrils sniffing the scent of blood in the air. His tail lashed his sides alternately. And each time that he passed Nero’s jaws, the latter soothingly licked a purple curdled spot, which the taster of human blood still retained upon one of his great toes.