Cross had not any, though, so I bought a chetah. It was quite young and very droll; it looked like a gargoyle on some castle of the Middle Ages. I also bought a dog wolf, all white with a thick coat, fiery eyes, and spearlike teeth. He was terrifying to look at. Mr. Cross made me a present of six chameleons which belonged to a small race and looked like lizards. He also gave me an admirable chameleon, a prehistoric, fabulous sort of animal. It was a veritable Chinese curiosity and changed color from pale green to dark bronze, at one minute slender and long like a lily leaf, and then all at once puffed out and thick-set like a toad. Its lorgnette eyes, like those of a lobster, were quite independent of each other. With its right eye it would look ahead, and with its left eye it looked backward. I was delighted and quite enthusiastic over this present. I named my chameleon “Cross-ci Cross-ça,” in honor of Mr. Cross. We returned to London with the chetah in a cage, the dog wolf in a leash, my six little chameleons in a box, and “Cross-ci Cross-ça” on my shoulder, fastened to a gold chain we had bought at a jeweler’s. I had not found any lions but I was delighted all the same. My domestics were not as pleased as I was. There were already three dogs in the house: Minniccio who had accompanied me from Paris, Bull and Fly, bought in London. Then there was my parrot, Bizibouzon, and my monkey, Darwin. Mme. Guérard screamed when she saw these new guests arrive. My butler hesitated to approach the dog wolf, and it was all in vain that I assured them that my chetah was not dangerous. No one would open the cage, and it was carried out into the garden. I asked for a hammer in order to open the door of the cage that had been nailed down, thus keeping the poor chetah a prisoner. When my domestics heard me ask for the hammer, they decided to open it themselves. Mme. Guérard and the women servants watched from the windows. Presently the door burst open, and the chetah, beside himself with joy, sprang like a tiger out of his cage, wild with liberty. He rushed at the trees, made straight for the dogs, who all four began to howl with terror. The parrot was excited, and uttered shrill cries and the monkey, shaking his cage about, gnashed his teeth to distraction. This concert in the silent square made the most prodigious effect. All the windows were opened and more than twenty faces appeared above my garden wall, all of them inquisitive, alarmed, or furious. I was seized with a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and my friend Louise Abbéma; Nittis, the painter, who had come to call on me, was in the same state, and Gustave Doré, who had been waiting for me ever since two o’clock. Georges Deschamp, an amateur musician, with a great deal of talent, tried to note down this Hoffmanesque harmony, while my friend, Georges Clairin, his back shaking with laughter, sketched the never-to-be-forgotten scene.