, it was not for
herself, but for her sister Cephyse--the Bacchanal Queen, who had
returned to Paris the previous day, and whom Mother Bunch now sought,
through the means of Adrienne, to rescue from a most dreadful fate.

Two hours after these different scenes, an enormous crowd pressed round
the doors of the Porte-Saint-Martin, to witness the exercises of Morok,
who was about to perform a mock combat with the famous black panther of
Java, named Death. Adrienne, accompanied by Lord and Lady de Morinval,
now stepped from a carriage at the entrance of the theatre. They were to
be joined in the course of the evening by M. de Montbron, whom they had
dropped, in passing, at his club.

CHAPTER XII. BEHIND THE SCENES.

The large theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin was crowded by an impatient
multitude. All Paris had hurried with eager and burning curiosity to
Morok's exhibition. It is quite unnecessary to say that the lion-tamer
had completely abandoned his small taste in religious baubles, which he
had so successfully carried on at the White Falcon Inn at Leipsic.
There were, moreover, numerous tokens by which the surprising effects
of Morok's sudden conversion had been blazoned in the most extraordinary
pictures: the antiquated baubles in which he had formerly dealt would
have found no sale in Paris. Morok had nearly finished dressing himself,
in one of the actor's rooms, which had been lent to him. Over a coat of
mail, with cuishes and brassarts, he wore an ample pair of red trousers,
fastened round his ankles by broad rings of gilt brass. His long caftan
of black cloth, embroidered with scarlet and gold, was bound round his
waist and wrist by other large rings of gilt metal. This sombre costume
imparted to him an aspect still more ferocious. His thick and red-haired
beard fell in large quantities down to his chest, and a long piece
of white muslin was folded round his red head. A devout missionary in
Germany and an actor in Paris, Morok knew as well as his employers, the
Jesuits, how to accommodate himself to circumstances.

Seated in one corner of the room, and contemplating with a sort of
stupid admiration, was Jacques Rennepont, better known as "Sleepinbuff"
(from the likelihood that he would end his days in rags, or his present
antipathy to great care in dress). Since the day Hardy's factory had
been destroyed by fire, Jacques had not quitted Morok, passing
the nights in excesses, which had no baneful effects on