I am indebted for his charming evening?"

Perhaps Madame de Morinval would have remarked the expression of bitter
irony, that Adrienne could not altogether dissemble, if suddenly a
hoarse and prolonged roar had net attracted her attention, as well
as that of the rest of the audience, who had hitherto been quite
indifferent to the scenes intended for an introduction to the appearance
of Morok. Every eye was now turned instinctively towards the cavern
situated to the left of the stage, just below Mdlle. de Cardoville's
box; a thrill of curiosity ran through the house. A second roar, deeper
and more sonorous, and apparently expressive of more irritation than
the first, now rose from the cave, the mouth of which was half-hidden
by artificial brambles, made so as to be easily put on one side. At this
sound, the Englishman stood up in his little box, leaned half over the
front, and began to rub his hands with great energy; then, remaining
perfectly motionless, he fixed his large, green, glittering eyes on the
mouth of the cavern.

At these ferocious howlings, Djalma also had started, notwithstanding
the frenzy of love, hate, and jealousy, to which he was a prey. The
sight of this forest, and the roarings of the panther, filled him with
deep emotion, for they recalled the remembrance of his country, and of
those great hunts which, like war, have their own terrible excitement.
Had he suddenly heard the horns and gongs of his father's army sounding
to the charge, he could not have been transported with more savage
ardor. And now deep growls, like distant thunder, almost drowned the
roar of the panther. The lion and tiger, Judas and Cain answered her
from their dens at the back of the stage. On this frightful concert,
with which his ears had been familiar in the midst of the solitudes of
India, when he lay encamped, for the purposes of the chase or of war,
Djalma's blood boiled in his veins. His eyes sparkled with a wild ardor.
Leaning a little forward, with both hands pressed on the front of the
box, his whole body trembled with a convulsive shudder. The audience,
the theatre, Adrienne herself no longer existed for him; he was in a
forest of his own lands, tracking the tiger.

Then there mingled with his beauty so intrepid and ferocious an
expression, that Rose-Pompon looked at him with a sort of terror and
passionate admiration. For the first time in her life, perhaps, her
pretty blue eyes, generally so gay and mischievous;