e fangs. A double iron chain, and a collar also of iron,
painted black, blended with the ebon shades of her hide, and with the
darkness of the cavern. The illusion was complete, and the terrible
animal seemed to be at liberty in her den.

"Ladies," said the marquis, suddenly, "look at those Indians. Their
emotion makes them superb!"

In fact, the sight of the panther had raised the wild ardor of Djalma
to its utmost pitch. His eyes sparkled in their pearly orbits like two
black diamonds; his upper lip was curled convulsively with an expression
of animal ferocity, as if he were in a violent paroxysm of rage.

Faringhea, now leaning on the front of the box, was also greatly
excited, by reason of a strange coincidence. "That black panther of so
rare a breed," thought he, "which I see here at Paris, upon the stage,
must be the very one that the Malay"--the Thug who had tatooed Djalma
at Java during his sleep--"took quite young from his den, and sold to a
European captain. Bowanee's power is everywhere!" added the Thug, in his
sanguinary superstition.

"Do you not think," resumed the marquis, addressing Adrienne, "that
those Indians are really splendid in their present attitude?"

"Perhaps they may have seen such a hunt in their own country," said
Adrienne, as if she would recall and brave the most cruel remembrances.

"Adrienne," said the marchioness, suddenly, in an agitated voice, "the
lion-tamer has now come nearer--is not his countenance fearful to look
at?--I tell you he is afraid."

"In truth," observed the marquis, this time very seriously, "he is
dreadfully pale, and seems to grow worse every minute, the nearer he
approaches this side. It is said that, were he to lose his presence of
mind for a single moment, he would run the greatest danger."

"O! it would be horrible!" cried the marchioness, addressing Adrienne,
"if he were wounded--there--under our eyes!"

"Every wound does not kill," replied her friend, with an accent of such
cold indifference, that the marchioness looked at her with surprise, and
said to her: "My dear girl, what you say there is cruel!"

"It is the air of the place that acts on me," answered Adrienne, with an
icy smile.

"Look! look! the lion-tamer is about to shoot his arrow at the panther,"
said the marquis, suddenly. "No doubt, he will next perform the hand to
hand grapple."

Morok was at this moment in front of the stage, but he had yet to
traverse its entire breadth to reach